The Value of Sacrifice Part II
by Face of Poe
Summary: Leyla Solo-Fel must join forces with the revived Empire of the Hand, with Cem Fel at its head, in order to stop a potentially devastating threat from wreaking havoc on the galaxy. More than a few surprises lay in store- including a certain Chiss clone...
1. Prologue

**A/N: Welcome to part II of The Value of Sacrifice. Part I to be found under my profile, of course. **

"_And what if [Thrawn] doesn't return? What if the rumors are just that: rumors?"_

"_Oh, he'll return. He said he would, and he always kept his promises."_

-Mara Jade and Admiral Voss Parck - _Vision of the Future_

**The Value of Sacrifice – part 2**

_"There were several attempts to turn Luke Skywalker, and later to capture the girl's mother and her two siblings, in the hopes of restoring the line of Vader to the glory of the Empire. Those attempts were mostly abandoned by the time I disposed of Morgny."_

_"Well, Morgny was an incompetent fool, but no matter. If anything, this only convinces me further that we were meant to seize the girl and train her for her inherited duty of restoring order and justice to this galaxy."_

-Moff Qadrik Croyel and Lord Wrynn, Red Hand – _Against All Odds_

**Prologue**

_29 ABY – Governor's Palace, Generis – Atrivis Sector_

It was like waking from the longest sleep… the longest sleep, filled with decades' worth of dreams- but those dreams weren't dreams at all, they were… memories.

Memories…

Whose memories?

There was a sensation, like he'd forgotten something vitally important. Something he'd done? Something he was supposed to do?

Something he was?

"Thrawn."

Red eyes flew open, but he remained otherwise still. A face hovered above his, wrinkled and wizened, with a trace of trepidation and concern in eyes that were dark and bright, even set in an old face.

"Can you hear me?" He managed a slight nod as the memories attempted to reconcile the figure before him. "Do you… know me?"

The answer came easily, even if speech did not. For a moment, he concentrated on wrapping his mouth and vocal chords around the words before he dared attempt them aloud. "I know you," he managed at last. "Jorj." Some of the trepidation washed away from the man's face. "You have grown old, Jorj- and your Cheunh has not much improved for it."

A broad smile lit the face of the elderly Jorj Car'das, and he backed away to give Thrawn room to sit up and take in his surroundings. He did this in several observant seconds, before his forehead furrowed a bit, and he turned back to his companion, still standing watchfully by. "You have grown old, Jorj; and I… I am a clone. Yes?"

"Yes."

"We are not on Nirauan."

"No." The old but vital man sat gingerly on the end of the bed, half-turning his body to face his lifelong friend. "I do not know what happened on Nirauan; but it seems that much of the lower fortress was flooded sometime before the first attempt grew to maturity."

Slowly rising to his feet, willing his unused legs to be firm and steady, Thrawn glanced over the computer console. "Then it seems I have twenty years of news to catch up on, not ten, yes? And then there is work to be done."

"Thrawn, my friend, listen to me." His red eyes burned into Car'das' brown ones as he paused at his serious tone. "The war is over, Thrawn."

A brow rose curiously. "I trusted that Gilad Pellaeon would have long ago put a stop to it."

"No," Car'das stressed, "not with the New Republic; the Far Outsiders, Thrawn. The Yuuzhan Vong."

He worked his mouth around the strange name. "Yuu'zhan'vong?"

"Yes. Nearly five years ago, their forces flooded the galaxy in droves. The war has only just ended, some two months ago."

He stared. "The outcome, Jorj? Was the galaxy prepared to meet them?"

A heavy sigh escaped Car'das. "Not nearly enough, my friend. Much time was wasted squabbling and attempting to appease the invaders. For a time, the galaxy turned on the Jedi in an attempt to gain the good graces of those who feared them. They proved… instrumental, however… in defeating them."

"Then the Jedi have risen back to power?"

Car'das looked at him curiously. "There is an Order, yes, under the tutelage of Luke Skywalker, primarily. Their Academy was destroyed early in the war, but they are seeking a place to rebuild, and are establishing a presence during the reconstruction of Coruscant."

"What of…" his lids fluttered a moment as he recalled the dream-like memories, "Mara Jade."

His friend blinked. "How did you know?"

"Know what?"

"They're married. Luke Skywalker and Mara Jade married nine years ago."

A low sound that might have been a laugh slipped past his dark lips. "I did not know, Jorj; even the best strategist of the Imperial Navy could not have foreseen such a union twenty years ago. I had rather hoped that Commander Parck would someday lure her into the Empire of the Hand…" he trailed away as Car'das blinked. "Yes?" he asked mildly.

"It is dissolved, from what I hear. During the war, it became… pragmatic… to integrate your Empire back into the Ascendancy."

A light frown threatened his lips. "And the humans? Captain Parck and Baron Fel?"

"I do not know what has become of Parck," Car'das admitted, "but Fel has removed to Csilla. The Ruling Families have accorded them enough trust, it seems, to request his son be a diplomatic liaison of sorts between the Ascendancy and the… well, you wouldn't know, but the Galactic Federation of Free Alliances has arisen in the power vacuum of the war."

A smooth brow arched. "Indeed? A big step of trust, for my people. Which of the Fel sons?"

"Jagged- the youngest; I believe the others are dead." Thrawn nodded slowly. "He has also just married the daughter of Han and Leia Solo. They have a child, a daughter."

"Indeed?" Thrawn asked with mild interest. "Quite the union, the Fels and the Solos. The issue of such a pair would carry the weight of the Empire, of the New Republic, of the Jedi, and apparently of the Ascendancy."

A wry smile touched Car'das' lips. "Be that as it may, I do not have the impression that it was a marriage made for power. Jagged Fel and Jaina Solo flew together for some time under the command of Fel's uncle, Antilles."

"A Jedi and a fighter pilot?"

"The best seen even in Rogue squadron."

Thrawn seemed to mull that over for a moment before turning his attention back to the computer console. "I have much to look into, Jorj. I thank you for coming, and hope you do not mind waiting another week or so."

A look of wariness crossed his face. "Thrawn, something else- the moff you entrusted this room to- he is dead. Died in his sleep ten years ago. Foul play was suspected but never proven."

The chiss met his eyes unblinkingly before he nodded his reluctant acceptance, dozens of questions surging to the forefront of his mind, but knowing Car'das would not have the answers he needed. "Very well," he murmured. "Oh, and Jorj- one more thing. How did I- my template, as it were- how did he die?"

Car'das blinked and frowned. "You are him and he is you, Thrawn. In fact," he cocked his head slightly, "I've never heard of a clone having such a ready and vivid awareness of the fact that he _was_ a clone before." Thrawn just continued staring at him, and he sighed. "Twenty years ago, during a battle at Bilbringi… your bodyguard, the noghri, betrayed you. He stabbed you through the chest."

"Is that so?" Thrawn asked with great interest. "How delightfully… artistic."

X-X-X-X

_29 ABY – Csaus – Chiss Ascendancy_

The alarm had woken him in the middle of the night, and a cold weight settled over him as he quickly dressed and made his way to the most heavily guarded and secretive of scientific facilities in the planetary capital. In the centermost lab of the complex, behind numerous blast doors and several coded entryways, there was an intruder.

And Syndic Csun'abr'inrokini had a fearful suspicion that he knew who it was.

Gripping his charric in one hand, he keyed in the last access code to enter the top-secret facility. There would be no guards to assist him, even in his significantly advanced age- this was his mess, and it was up to him to clean it up.

The exterior entryway was darkened, and he did not turn on any lighting. Creeping slowly along the sterile corridors, he brought the deadly weapon to bear outside a glass door and waved it open with a gesture from his free hand. It slid silently and he ducked inside the darkened control room and took three steps towards the security set-up- when the lights came on blindingly.

"I confess," a low and even voice murmured, "I had rather expected your arrival about ten minutes ago, Csun'abr'inrokini."

Quickly adjusting to the light, he raised the weapon towards the source of the voice… and then felt it loosen in his grasp as his eyes widened and he took an involuntary step backwards.

"But then," the figure allowed reasonably, "you are not as young as you once were."

He opened his mouth several times before managing words. "This- this is impossible!"

"Come now, Syndic- what a way to greet an old friend."

"Who are you?" Csun'abr'inrokini demanded in a voice that quavered more than he cared to admit, even to himself.

The figure leaned back in his seat at the computer terminal and looked briefly pensive. "That is the question that has been pondered by scientists, geneticists, strategists… well, since the very invention of cloning, is it not? For I am at once someone who knows you well, and someone who has never met you before. Strange, yes?" The stunned chiss couldn't quite formulate a proper response. "Syndic, this here shall be the pleasant part of my visit, I suggest you put forth more effort to prolong it a bit."

His throat finally unstuck. "A… a clone?"

"A second attempt, I'm afraid; otherwise, you'd have seen me much sooner. But alas, I have only just… awoken, I suppose… three standard weeks ago."

"How?" A dark brow rose slowly, and a purple flush rose in Csun'abr'inrokini's face. "How are you here? After twenty years, Mitth'raw'nuruodo…"

"Ah," he sounded quite pleased, perhaps at the opportunity to explain his brilliance to someone. "A simple matter, really. Isolationism of the Ascendancy aside, I suspect you were aware of my acquisition of several thousand cloning cylinders during my tenure as Supreme Commander of the Imperial Fleet…" the elderly chiss nodded dumbly. "I simply… skimmed two of them off the top, as it were. As I said, however, you are looking at the backup- always allow for the unknown, Syndic." His eyes darted to the syndic's left. "I wonder if you remember tales of the Visitors from long ago, Nabrin?"

He spun and found a rather old human male standing idly against the wall behind him, completely missed in the shock.

"Jorj Car'das, may I present Syndic Csun'abr'inrokini, of the Third Ruling Family?" Brown eyes met red, and they inclined their heads in terse acknowledgement of one another. "Syndic, Car'das has remained a loyal friend, even in twenty years of death. It is _he_ who remotely triggered the second apparatus upon discovering the failure of the first, and he has just been kind enough to greet me upon my wakening. I understand that I am too late for the Far Outsiders," he added with a hint of warning in his voice.

Something in Csun'abr'inrokini's chest tightened. "Thrawn, you have to understand-"

"You handed a faulty project over to another!" Mitth'raw'nuruodo stood smoothly and threateningly. "You trusted something of this instability into the hands of unknown scientists in New Republic Intelligence, and yet you have _still_ not destroyed it, after it failed even now, even decades later!"

"You are right, Mitth'raw'nuruodo, but that is the least of our worries." The angered chiss paused and slowly lifted a single brow. "I have not destroyed it because… my teams are working to develop a counter-pathogen."

His expression, if possible, turned even more thunderous. "A counter?" he asked softly. "And why would you feel the need for such a thing, Syndic? The pathogen was purportedly destroyed during the conflict." It was silent for a minute, and that minute stretched on like an eternity, before the clone let out a snarl, nearly baring his teeth in his anger. "Syndic, your carelessness could very well destroy everything this galaxy is now working to rebuild!"

The syndic took a deep breath. "Thrawn, I am aware of my failings, and am doing all I know to atone for them, but until I can determine _who_ sliced into the project notes-"

"They never should have left this lab!"

"I know," he said in deadly seriousness. "But you were not here. The Far Outsiders, they paid us no mind, Thrawn, and immediately began their siege on those who knew naught of their existence. I did not have access to the samples I needed, and New Republic Intelligence would not hand them over without a compromise. We compromised. An attempt to utilize the pathogen showed a continued tendency to mutate and do so quickly, and most of our initial work was destroyed in an act of cowardly sabotage. It was not until I was preparing to destroy our own notes and shut it down for good that I realized the records had been sliced and copied."

Mitth'raw'nuruodo took a deep breath and sank back into the chair at the computer terminal. "Well, Syndic Nabrin… it seems that you have certainly cut my work out for me."

X-X-X-X


	2. Chapter 1

"_Hey, you beat Leyla every time, or so I hear."_

"_True; maybe I should drag her up here for one more game, just to boost my ego back up a notch."_

"_Nah. I think she'd have a much better shot of beating you now."_

"_Why's that?" _

"_Leyla's experience yesterday- it taught her one very important thing: the value of sacrifice." _

-Jaina Solo-Fel and Gavin Darklighter (on dejarik) - _Reciprocity_

**Chapter 1**

_47 ABY - Dawn's Folly_

"What do you know of Alpha Red?"

Leyla blinked, glanced once at a stoically silent Vulcor, and then looked back at her long-missing uncle. "It… it was a failure. A pathogen engineered by New Republic Intelligence, designed to specifically target Yuuzhan Vong life forms during the war- but it was too versatile, too unpredictable, to be used. So it was destroyed."

Cem sighed. "In principle, yes. Save two points- it was not a creation of the New Republic, it was a collaborative project between Intelligence and Chiss biotechnicians- a strange partnership to be sure, but the New Republic had greater access to study samples from which to acquire genetic material of various Yuuzhan Vong life forms, and the Chiss… they had a similar project that was conceived decades ago- quietly, at the behest of Thrawn, who was then a commander in the Expansionary Defense Fleet- to deal with a cruel species known as the Vagaari who wrought destruction across Wild Space, murdering and enslaving as they went."

"And the second point?" Vulcor asked quietly.

It seemed to Leyla that Cem was choosing his words carefully. "The project was destroyed, yes- first sabotaged by the creature Vergere, later destroyed by its creators when it was proved that it was too volatile and would potentially affect organisms which were not of Yuuzhan Vong origins. The conception of the project, the process of developing it first for the Vagaari and then adapting it for the Yuuzhan Vong- as you can well imagine, it was a complex undertaking of many years… and it was painstakingly documented. Each failure, each success, each new reaction…"

Leyla stared. "And those notes were destroyed as well…? Cem?"

He shook his head slowly. "The chiss in charge of the project made to destroy all evidence that it had ever existed- by all reckoning, it was a catastrophic failure not worth salvaging. Upon going to do so, however, it became evident that another had gotten there first; the security on the files was strong enough that the thief could not erase _all_ evidence of his actions."

"It's been almost twenty years since then," his niece murmured softly.

"Yes," Cem acknowledged. "Twenty years in which, even as the being who ultimately came into possession of Alpha Red has planned his vengeance, others have made provisions to act against him… when the time is right."

The number of questions whirling through Leyla's mind was, quite frankly, astounding, and she struggled to pick just one to start with. Vulcor, however, solved her problem by speaking first. "What does this have to do with us?"

Though he answered Vulcor's question, Cem's eyes never left Leyla's. "We want you to join us, of course; our quarry has set the pieces and made his first move- and we want your help as we make our own."

She actually laughed, though there was little mirth in the sound. "I'm going to need a _lot_ more than that before you can expect me to have a response to such a request. Why me? Why you? And who could have possibly had the resources to revive the Empire of the Hand, apparently unbeknownst to the rest of the galaxy?"

"I'm afraid that there is only so much I can answer outside the security of our base," Cem leaned back and considered her, sizing her up. "Secrecy is tantamount to our cause- which means that if you leave, you hear no more."

"But if you shared all of this with the Jedi-"

"No," Cem countered flatly. "We do this our way. The instant the target is spooked, he will go for maximum damage."

She frowned. "What's he after _now_, if not damage?"

"Chaos," he said simply. "And he's succeeding in creating it."

A horrible realization was finally dawning on Leyla, and she stared at her uncle with a new understanding. "Torolis," she whispered.

Vulcor looked at her sharply. "Come again?"

"Rodia… Falleen… Sullust…" she counted them off quietly, in a daze. "Bothan Space. Torolis."

Cem nodded solemnly. "This is here, this is _now_, Leyla. If we overplay our hand, if we are revealed too soon… billions will die."

She swallowed thickly. "And the two on the bridge, Cem? The older one carries the crest and colors of the Third House and bears the insignia of syndic."

"Leyla…" he sighed.

"Cem…" she said back warningly.

He ran a hand through his short hair and closed his eyes. "Csun'abr'inrokini headed the initial project against the Vagaari," he explained quietly. "He headed the team of bioengineers who worked with New Republic Intelligence against the Yuuzhan Vong. And yes, he was the one who discovered the security breach in the Alpha Red project."

"But he was never part of the Empire of the Hand," Leyla said slowly.

"I told you," Cem countered, "Thrawn conceived of the project while he was still a member of the Ascendancy, long before he was exiled and joined the Empire, and forged his own." She stared dully back at him. "He saved their lives, Leyla."

"My mother and brother could have died for what happened," she shot back angrily.

His eyes flashed. "Yes, if you recall, I was present for the wholly unexpected revelation that your brother is, in fact, Jagged's son, and not Master Durron's."

"My mother did what she had to."

"As did the syndic," he murmured back almost challengingly. "His alternative was to stand idly by while another attempted and likely succeeded in murdering your father and mine." Leyla opened and closed her mouth furiously a few times, trying to find words to rebut him. "He needed time to move his people and materials out of the Ascendancy; had he let them go, he would have made himself a target to those who confided in and trusted him to carry out their treachery."

Her expression was fading from anger into something like betrayal. "My god," she whispered. "You- they- what did you do, Cem? You _knew_ they were alive all that time, didn't you?"

"Don't be foolish," he snapped at her, "I'd have gladly killed Syndic Nabrin in cold blood at the time, given the chance. It was only those events which made those working to rebuild the Empire of the Hand aware of my existence."

She shook her head. "You aren't giving me much to go on here, Cem. Even in asking me to trust that man…"

Cem sighed, nodded, and retrieved a comlink; keying it on, he murmured softly into it. While he spoke, Vulcor looked at Leyla in a mixture of perplexity, incredulity, and frustration. She just shrugged and shook her head, eyeing Cem suspiciously when he put the comlink away. "You still haven't answered- why me?"

"As a Jedi, you bring something to the table that no other Fel can. And as a Fel, Leyla," he met her eyes piercingly, "this _is_ your heritage, like it or not."

Vulcor bristled by her side. "And as a Solo, a Skywalker, and a Durron, she has an inherent obligation to the Jedi and to the Galactic Alliance as well."

"Your Galactic Alliance is compromised," Cem told him bluntly. "And it will grow worse before it gets better."

"But-" she was cut off by the hiss of the door sliding open, and she reflexively stood, feeling wary and cornered, as the two red-eyed chiss entered the room, the syndic in front looking mildly wary himself. Meeting his eyes coolly, she spoke stiltedly. "Syndic- my uncle says you saved my father's life; you'll pardon me if I refrain from genuflecting in my gratitude?"

Cem sighed. "Leyla-"

"The syndic is not to be held accountable," the other chiss stepped smoothly forward and met her stare steadily, almost challengingly as he had done on the bridge some minutes prior. "He accepted and followed orders from another."

"Who?" Leyla shot back.

His lips curled in a bemused smile. "Myself, of course."

"_Crahsystor_," Cem muttered, holding up a hand. "Leyla, Syndic Csun'abr'inrokini has spearheaded the effort for nigh on two decades to handle the ramifications from Alpha Red from a scientific standpoint. Handling matters on the tactical front, and working tirelessly to establish contact with old garrisons of the Hand is Commander-"

The other stepped forward and inclined his head to her. "Mitth'raw'nuruodo."

Leyla blinked. "Excuse me?"

"The rank is of a somewhat unofficial nature, to be sure, but a certain discretion is necessary in these unusual circumstances…"

Cem stared at him and muttered harshly, "I thought the plan was-"

"It is a bad plan. Jedi Solo-Fel should understand the situation if she is to work with us."

"She hasn't agreed to do anything of the sort," Cem countered.

Vulcor bristled. "Do you think she can just disappear without notice like yourself, _Captain_ Fel?"

"Your flare for the dramatic is going to destroy everything we've-"

"Stop!" All eyes in the room turned back to Leyla, whose eyes had not left the younger chiss standing before her. "_Who_ are you?"

"Most will simply use the address of 'Commander' or '_Crahsystor_'," he assured her, "given the inherent political prejudices and a certain misunderstanding and distrust that has plagued the cloning industry since its creation."

"The cloning industry…?"

"The syndic will resort to my full name in moments of extreme exasperation- but you, Jedi Solo-Fel…" his eyes glittered strangely.

"You may call me Thrawn."

X-X-X-X

_Coruscant_

Jaina Solo-Fel slid back into bed in the small apartment she and Jag had rented on Coruscant for a couple of months while the political crisis was at its height; the building was near where her parents lived, and not much further from Kyp and Gennevi, and all three of their abodes were within a half-hour speeder trip from the Jedi temple, so it was a good central location for their purposes.

The unmoving lump on the bed groaned lightly as she wrapped her arms around it; and then she heard Jag's muffled voice trying to be heard through a pillow. "What _time_ is it?"

"Just past oh-six-hundred," she murmured, and he groaned again. "We had a message- Vulcor and Leyla are on their way back, they should be arriving late tonight."

"Tha's good," he mumbled, rolling over and wrapping an arm around her waist, dragging her close and curling up against her body. "G'night."

She laughed softly and kissed her way across one cheek to his ear. "I should go to the temple soon." He made a disgruntled noise of protest. "Mom and dad are going to come get Navi around ten hundred to spend the day with him."

"Wha' am _I_ s'posed t'do?"

"Get together with Gennevi and mope about being retired military?"

"Okay…"

She grinned and tilted her head up to kiss his brow. "I'll see you tonight."

"You should stay a while."

"Why? You're asleep."

"B'cause I want you to."

She smirked slyly as one of his eyes cracked open. "Convince me."

And in the blink of an eye, he was wide awake and on her, rolling so that she was pinned beneath him as his mouth zeroed in on her neck, kissing and sucking lightly and making her gasp. After several seconds, he sat up and met her glassy-eyed look challengingly, a single scarred brow rising slowly, almost tauntingly. "Convinced?"

"You were _faking_?"

"No, I really am tired. But I am also a man who will resort to any means necessary to keep his warm-bodied, lightly-clothed, beautiful wife in bed with him a while longer."

"And when cute-tired-mumbly-Jag didn't convince me, you went to awake-domineering…" she shifted her weight slightly and watched the slightest darkening of his eyes in response, "_aroused_-Jag instead?"

"Clearly it is a tactic that will soon become obsolete."

"I _love_ when you talk strategy in bed."

"And how am I doing so far?"

"I'll never surrender."

"Oh?"

"Never- not even- oh!" she gasped. "I surrender, I surrender."

X-X-X-X

_Dawn's Folly_

When the silence had stretched on for close to half a minute, Leyla finally turned her head to look shakily at her uncle, who met her look impassively; in his eyes, she could read trace amounts of frustrated annoyance with the chiss before him but no signs of duplicity, of treachery. From Vulcor, a confused skepticism radiated towards her, but not the sudden dry-mouthed alarm bordering on fear that was all Leyla could feel at the moment. Then again, his isolation until the age of nineteen had resulted in a certain glossing over of some elements of galactic history and, while he undoubtedly recognized the name of the Empire's last and most ruthless grand admiral, he might not make the connection to the personal history he had with Leyla's family.

She swallowed with effort. "If this is some form of obligatory hazing that accompanies the offer to join your empire…"

Cem coughed a laugh, but controlled himself and shook his head. "Nothing so sinister."

"But… what…? I mean…"

The impossible figure before her- _Thrawn_- looked wryly amused. "It is not unusual for one to take time to become acclimated to the idea of a clone… the captain and the syndic were both-"

"A clone?" Leyla demanded, voice rising in pitch. "A _clone_?" She barked an incredulous laugh. "You think I could care less that you're a _clone_? You- Thrawn- he- when he wasn't tearing up the New Republic in the last months of his life, he was attempting to _kidnap_ my grandmother!"

"Ah," Thrawn nodded, "it is true; may I point out that the galaxy was a wholly different place nearly forty years ago?"

She gaped. "_No_, you may not!"

Cem sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, and then shot an accusing look at Thrawn. "I think you've accomplished all you will here and are now doing more damage than good in the matter." Leyla nodded dumbly, eyes wide. "Perhaps it would be best if we restricted the shocking revelations to those which are wholly relevant _at the moment_?" he asked Thrawn.

The chiss nodded indulgently towards Cem, and he and Nabrin, all but forgotten for the moment, retreated from the room and returned to the bridge. Leyla followed their progress until the door shut behind them, and then turned slowly back towards her uncle, mouth agape. "Thrawn, Cem."

"Yes."

"_The_ Thrawn."

"Well… cloned, but yes."

"_The_ Thrawn whose ultimate goal in his last months alive was _kidnapping_ my grandmother to get at her unborn twin children who happen to be my _mother_ and _uncle_!"

He had the grace to look mildly abashed, but his eyes grew hard as he stared her down. "I cannot answer for him, Leyla, save to point out that he has only ever done what he thought best for this galaxy."

"Oh," she laughed wildly, "great. Spoken like an unquestioning follower."

"Do you imagine Jagged feels any differently?"

It was a low blow, but an effective one, and she recoiled as though she'd been physically slapped. Responding to her own heightened emotions, Vulcor tensed noticeably at her side, and she took a deep breath and put a restraining hand on his arm. "I _imagine_," she told Cem coolly, "that my father's experiences in the Empire of the Hand and in the Ascendancy have accorded him a slightly altered perspective on the absolutist views of undying devotion towards a long-dead leader who-"

"Had Thrawn gone to my brother instead of me," Cem interrupted her smoothly, "Jagged would be here in my place without question."

She shook her head. "He wouldn't do that to my mother and my brother, Cem. And I can't believe that you think I would either. And you _are_ aware that your parents spent weeks on Bastion looking- unofficially- for any clues to your disappearance? That my father and Ashik risked a trip back into the Ascendancy for the same purpose?"

Cem nodded. "And by now, my father knows enough to stop asking questions."

"And _my_ father?"

"Was never in any danger."

"Among the people who wanted him dead eight years ago?"

"We had him covered."

She stared. "You-"

"Enough," Cem held up a hand. "There are more important matters at hand. Rest assured, Leyla, Jagged is safely on Coruscant with his wife and son, as are my parents-"

"Which," Vulcor finally spoke up hardly, "is precisely where Leyla and I are headed so the _whole_ family might be together. Because unlike you, Master Fel, Leyla _will_ be missed and she _will_ be sought after most ardently."

Cem regarded him carefully. "And that is something _you_ know from firsthand experience, is it not, Jedi Vulcor? As one who has both done the seeking and been the sought-after?"

Leyla stared. Apparently Cem knew more about Vulcor than he'd let on when he'd first pulled her into the room. "Your point?" Vulcor asked him quietly, face not betraying the slight tension Leyla could feel emanating from him in the Force.

"My point is that thirteen years ago, you could have been arrested and executed for treason against the Galactic Alliance- or at the very least, against the Imperial Remnant. And instead, thirteen years later, you are a friend of and implicitly trusted by the very person you assisted in kidnapping- if only through your silent acceptance of the plans of others." Vulcor's grey eyes narrowed slightly. "Appearances can be… misleading."

Seeming to come to some sort of decision, Vulcor stood abruptly. "That they can be. So if you'll excuse us, we must be on our way so we can make our report to the Council and let _your_ family know that you're alive, well, and playing pirate in the mid-rim."

Both men looked expectantly at Leyla, whose gaze bounced between them two or three times. "What?"

A half-smile touched Cem's lips. "Jedi Vulcor will not leave without you, Leyla. So what will it be?"

"Do I have a choice?"

"There's always a choice. Here, there are several: you can leave now, make your report with full details of what you have learned here, and see what happens. You can leave, omit the details of this encounter, and let us go about our work as we were. Or," he leaned forward and met her eyes, "you can come back to base with us, let us show you what the galaxy is truly up against, and help us defeat an evil beyond that yet seen in your lifetime."A long and unsure silence weighed heavily on the room. "You may leave if you like," Cem repeated. "We can safely drop out of hyperspace in another hour and-"

"_Out_ of hyperspace?" Vulcor demanded.

Cem smiled thinly. "It was unwise to linger in as busily trafficked a lane as that in which we picked you up. We made the jump to lightspeed five minutes ago." He turned back to his niece. "In another hour," he repeated, "we will drop out of hyperspace. At that time, you can either choose to leave or you can choose to send a message, with your apologies, to whomever you see fit."

"A message saying _what_?"

He blinked. "Anything you like. Tell them you're stressed and taking a vacation," she rolled her eyes. "Tell them you're eloping." Vulcor coughed suddenly and violently. "Tell them that you ran into a clone of the late Grand Admiral Thrawn on the Hydian Way and are helping him prevent a catastrophic galactic crisis."

She cocked a brow. "But that one is, apparently, the truth."

He smirked. "But who would believe it?"

Leyla looked slowly to Vulcor and read the angry frustration in his eyes. "I'm sorry, Vulcor."

"I gave my word," he murmured tonelessly to her, "that I would bring you safely back to Coruscant."

She shook her head slowly. "It wasn't yours to give," she whispered sadly. "And it wasn't my mother's demand to make."

"Then I hope this is worth the pain you will cause your family." They locked eyes and stared at one another for a minute, oblivious to Cem's presence. "Leyla, if this is your way of showing everyone that you're independent and miffed at being pulled off an assignment early-"

"If this-!" she interrupted him angrily and then stopped, breathing hard. Her words were forcedly even, as though willing herself not to lose control. "When we drop from hyperspace, I'll send them a message- and you can go."

"You know I won't."

"Yes," she nodded sadly, "but I am not asking you to stay."

"Are you asking me to go?"

For a long minute, she was quiet; she _wanted_ to say yes, wanted to tell him to go to Coruscant, to make her excuses, to reveal however much or little he saw fit regarding what they had learned from Cem… but she couldn't lie, and he would see through her in a heartbeat if she tried. "No."

"Then I stay."

X-X-X-X

Cem left the conference room to give Leyla time to think over and compose a message that would both assuage some of her parents' fear over her wellbeing and whereabouts but also not reveal too much about where she was going- not that she even knew to be able to tell them. Staring at the blankness of the tinted viewport, obstructing the hypnotizing view of traveling in hyperspace, he shook his head slowly, wondering if they had just set a series of events into motion that would be catastrophic to their cause.

He felt rather than heard the approaching presence, and he murmured softly, only for his companion's ears. "I hope you know what you're doing. She's very young."

"How old were her parents when they were doing their part for the galaxy?"

"Touché."

"I think you may come to find yourself pleasantly surprised by your niece, Captain Fel."

His lips quirked as he glanced sidelong at the chiss by his side. "That assessment is based on what, exactly? I barely even know my own niece and _you_ met the girl a half-hour ago."

"But an extremely educational half-hour it proved." Cem cocked a brow questioningly. "Nabrin is still alive, for one. I believe _you_ showed far less restraint upon your first meeting with the syndic than did she."

"Once she overcomes the shock of everything else, she _will_ have questions. Her mother's family holds no fond memories of your tenure as Grand Admiral."

"In all fairness, I hold no fond memories of her mother's family during my tenure as Grand Admiral. In fact, it is probably for the best that Rukh killed me when he did; it saves me the trouble of having memories of the Solos' and Skywalkers' sabotage against the Wayland storehouse. My flash-learning is blissfully lacking the last month of my life."

Cem turned finally to fully face Thrawn, and he frowned and shook his head slowly. "Five years later, Thrawn, it is still _highly _disconcerting to hear you say things like that." A corner of the chiss's mouth twitched, but he was quiet. "A fine pair we make," Cem sighed. "You're dead and I don't exist." He paused. "My brother is going to kill me."

X-X-X-X


	3. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

_Coruscant_

Shortly after ten hundred hours, when Han and Leia had claimed their day of grandparental visiting rights with Naviin, Jag found himself weaving in and out of speeder traffic in the crowded lanes crisscrossing kilometers from Coruscant's surface. He was on his way to Kyp and Gennevi's apartment- he really _was_ going to speak with Gennevi while Jaina and Kyp were busy at the temple, though she had been quite vague when she'd requested his presence.

He smoothly maneuvered the speeder into one of the uppermost berths of the building where the couple lived, and then descended a level in the nearest turbolift, traversed two corridors, and rang the buzzer to alert Gennevi to his presence. The door slid open almost immediately, and the older blonde woman smiled vaguely as she ushered him quickly inside, much to his bemusement. "Did anyone see you?"

Jag looked at her in confusion, and then registered the low rumble of other voices coming from the sitting room at the end of the corridor. "No…?"

They came around the corner and his brows shot up in surprise upon seeing Booster Terrik and his daughter, Mirax Terrik Horn, arguing quietly in Gennevi's sitting room. "Sorry," Gennevi spoke quietly from behind him. "A certain amount of discretion was deemed appropriate."

"Why would-"

"Jagged!" Booster boomed as he took notice of the newly arrived young man. Booster Terrik was a big man with a commanding presence; even at a fairly advanced age- well into his eighties, Jag suspected- he was as boisterous as ever, and even wider. He held out a thick hand and Jag shook it automatically, still bemused as to the presence of the other two guests in the Durron household. He knew Booster and Mirax reasonably well, given their long friendship with his uncle Wedge. But to the best of his knowledge, Gennevi and Mirax were casual acquaintances at best, and he didn't think she'd ever met Booster in her life.

Jag nodded his head as Mirax gave him a quick hug and a light peck on each cheek. "Sir," he acknowledged. "Mirax, it's good to see you again so soon…" Indeed, it had only been since Kyp and Gennevi's wedding that he'd seen the whole Horn family. "What's, uh…?"

"Have a seat," Gennevi steered them all back to the sitting area, and Jag sat back, frowning lightly, in a squashy armchair, with his hands folded in front of him, one brow slightly raised in his curiosity. "Jag," Gennevi leaned forward in her own chair, meeting his eyes earnestly, "I have a proposal of sorts to discuss with you."

"Don't let Durron or Jaina hear that," Booster supplied helpfully. Mirax shot him a look and he quieted, smirking lightly.

"What sort of proposal?" Jag asked carefully, more or less ignoring Booster's jab.

Her lips quirked. "A military one."

"Retirement have you that bored already?"

She licked her lips and hesitated, apparently choosing her words very carefully. "This would be, ah… in a slightly… unofficial capacity." His brow inched closer to his hairline. "I was speaking with a friend… a mutual friend of mine and Jaina's actually…" she waited until he nodded his understanding; she didn't want to say names aloud at the moment, but in a military context, the only common ground between Gennevi and Jaina was Gavin Darklighter, who had been the commander of both at different points in time. "And he expressed interest in the formation of an independent squadron who would enjoy a certain distance from the restrictions of the current complications in Command."

"Sounds like a tricky little scheme," Jag commented mildly. "Costly too. Where exactly do I come into it?"

"Well… I can train the pilots and run sims all day long- but in the end, Jag… I can't lead them, not anymore."

Jag swallowed. Two years prior, Gennevi had suffered ocular trauma resulting in her transfer from starfighter command to tactical advisory operations. Her vision was fine, but some irreparable damage to photoreceptors in both of her eyes meant that she struggled to focus in sudden changes of lighting levels- a potentially catastrophic handicap in battle, if the light of an explosion bled through the blast-tinting of the viewport. "You want me to _command_ someone's personal hit-squadron?" he asked skeptically, wondering what in blazes Gavin Darklighter was thinking.

"No," she shook her head fervently, "it isn't like that. We would operate independently, for obvious reasons. But something has our friend spooked and he wants to know that there's a force, however small out there, isolated from the political chaos. Someone to be ready- if and when it's necessary." She paused. "But yes, I want you to command it."

"You've never seen me fly."

"We've faced off in sims enough times to tell me that you're still one of the best out there, even if you _haven't_ flown in combat in years."

He looked between the calculating face of Booster Terrik, the slightly anxious one of Mirax, and Gennevi's own earnest expression. "And I suppose you'd be basing operations out of the _Errant Venture_?" he surmised. "Where do _you_ fit into all of this?" he directed towards Mirax.

"Supply and acquisitions," she returned succinctly. "I can get things quietly and cheaply."

"What about Corran?"

She bit her lip. "Well that's sort of the other side of the matter. Gennevi discussed the issue with Master Durron, who deemed it best that there be some level of plausible deniability, however small, for any Jedi Masters involved…"

"Jaina's about to be elevated to Master," Jag said quietly, an almost warning note in his voice.

Mirax continued smoothly. "Which is _why_… Corran and Master Durron are conceiving their own proposal to get an active Jedi wing out there as well. The two squadrons would both be based out of the _Venture_ but would be technically isolated from one another in any official sense."

"And the unofficial crossover between yourself and Corran, Gennevi and Kyp, me and Jaina, would suffice to relay any necessary information," he deadpanned and then leaned back and sighed. "Gennevi, you know that for Jaina and myself, the consideration of Naviin…"

"Bring him with you," Booster said quietly. Jag stared at him incredulously. "The _Errant Venture_ is not a warship by any means, Jagged. It would serve as a staging-ground, no more."

"And when Jaina and I were both busy? I suppose he could run around with your interesting clientele?" Jag asked sardonically. Booster and Gennevi exchanged a look. "Yes?"

Booster attempted a grin. "Wedge and Iella anticipated that problem and-"

"You've already roped _them_ into this little scheme?" he demanded.

"Iella has unparalleled skills in intelligence," Mirax pointed out softly. "And Wedge can't stay out of the thick of the action, even if he'll never admit that he's far too old these days to fly a snubfighter. In the hypothetical scenario that's been devised, Wedge would serve as a sort of command liaison between the Jedi team and Gennevi's team and, in the event of action, could coordinate them."

Looking around the room, Jag cast about for a practical response for a few moments. "In the event of action, I'm not sure that both myself and Jaina throwing ourselves into the thick of it is the most pragmatic scenario…"

"As I recall it," Booster eyed him curiously, "some eighteen and a half years ago, you left an eighteen-month-old child in the care of Kam and Tionne- also aboard _my_ ship- while the two of you returned to fight for Coruscant against the Yuuzhan Vong."

"That was different."

"Because you were flying into a maelstrom with a much higher chance that neither of you would come back? Versus forming preemptive strike teams which may or may not ever see any action?"

The set of Jag's jaw tightened a bit, though he did not deny the obvious double standard. And as he sat there, he wondered whether he and Jaina had grown complacent, or whether the galaxy had simply not had need of them since those tumultuous days. Because even then, when they had known that there was a strong chance that they would not be returning for Leyla… it had been obvious that they could not sit idly by, that they had to fight for Leyla's future, even if it was to be a future without them. And they had been reluctantly content to trust that Kam and Tionne would see to Leyla's wellbeing in the event that neither did return, that they would secure her care with Han and Leia, or Luke and Mara, if need be.

He sighed. "Do you truly think there is merit in this proposal?" he asked Gennevi. "That there is truly a cause for concern?"

"I truly believe that there is enough uncertainty right now that there is merit in not being caught off-guard," she returned quietly.

And he relented. "Fine; give me more detail, and for Force's sake, let me talk to Jaina before-"

"Jagged Fel!" He whipped around towards the hallway leading to the door, as did the other three occupants of the room. An angry Jaina was standing there with a harried and mildly apologetic Kyp behind her; that at least explained their silent entry that had gone unnoticed by the four of them. "I need to talk to you," she bit tersely, eyes darting around towards Booster and Mirax as she finally registered the others' presences in the apartment. "What's going on?" she frowned.

Gennevi bit her lip and nodded to the two Terriks, who stood quickly. "I'll be in touch," she murmured quietly; Jag was surprised when Jaina did not comment further on their presence, letting them move past her to the door without reiterating her question.

Instead, she turned once more to her husband. "Your daughter… _your _daughter…"

"Darling, you can't blame me every time she does something you don't approve of…"

"_Your daughter_ has sent a message to the Masters' Council- can you guess what it said?"

He blinked. "That… she'll be home for dinner?"

Her dark eyes flashed. "Apparently she's not _coming_ home."

"She-" he frowned. "For how long?"

"Indefinite; she also asked them to excuse Vulcor, as he has been dragged along in her wake, unwilling to part ways despite his disapproval of her actions."

Jag sat back down heavily and rubbed wearily at his eyes. "Vulcor won't let anything happen to her."

"Is that all you have to say?"

"What else _can_ I say?" he exclaimed. "What else can you?" Her eyes widened at his surprising outburst. "She's a Jedi Knight, Jaina, she's twenty. At her age, you were getting _married_."

"Maybe she's eloping with Vulcor," Kyp supplied softly from the entryway.

Jaina spun and glared daggers at him. "Will you take this seriously?"

"I'm with Jag on this one," he countered. "You're attempting to control her too much, Jaina. I don't know what you _thought_ would happen when you-"

She cut him off hotly. "I'm thinking about Zekk and Tahlia here, Kyp, and I'm thinking about Cem, and I'm thinking of the timing of my mother running into Zekk on Sullust days before a mysterious plague wipes out millions of bothans on Torolis- and I'm thinking about the fact that _as we speak_, the Senate is debating the special election of a new Chief of State to replace the last one who _did nothing wrong_."

Total silence rang heavily around the room for close to a minute, until Gennevi, all but forgotten amidst the arguing, spoke up quietly and almost hesitantly.

"Who's Cem?"

Jaina groaned. "_Kriff it_," she muttered and turned towards the door. Kyp reached for her arm but she shook him off forcefully. "Just don't, Kyp."

"Jaina…"

"_What_?" she demanded angrily. "Kyp, you should have told me weeks ago when Leyla dropped off the grid in Senex. I know you're still basking in newly-wed bliss or whatever, but I wouldn't have thought that you would practically forget about your daughter as a result…"

There was a flash of anger from him, but it was Gennevi who spoke up, a bit indignantly. "That is entirely uncalled for," she reproved, "If Kyp didn't think Leyla was in any-"

"Stay out of this," Jaina snapped at the older woman.

And for the briefest instant, the anger in Kyp swelled into something akin to fury; reflexively, Jaina flinched back from him and his harsh gaze, retreating a few steps back into the sitting room before she'd even realized she'd moved. Kyp's eyes flickered as his anger abated, and he regarded her strangely, taking in her wide eyes, her heavy breathing. "Force, Jaina," he murmured softly, evenly, "did you think I'd hit you?"

"It wouldn't be the first time," she shot back.

Everyone froze. Jag's eyes flickered over to Gennevi, who looked back at him uncertainly, but this was wholly out of the realm of that with which he knew how to deal, regarding his wife. The demons in her past with Kyp had, for the most part, been left in the past a good eighteen years ago when she'd accepted that his actions had been fueled by the dark side, that the true Kyp had never wanted nor intended to cause her any pain.

But it was entirely true; Jag had been there aboard- perhaps somewhat ironically- the _Errant Venture_ when Jaina had lured Kyp to her in a trap so that he could be delivered to Master Skywalker after months of errant, un-Jedi-like behavior. Upon the springing of the trap, Kyp had grown angry, had struck her across the face, before Zekk had led him away under the debilitating effects of ysalamiri.

None of them- perhaps not even Jaina- had known that she was all of a few weeks pregnant at the time; pregnant with Leyla; with Kyp's child.

Jag looked back to Jaina, who was still standing lock-eyed with a stunned Kyp, until she shook her head slowly and whispered, "I'm sorry," and dashed past him to the door. Jag followed her wordlessly.

X-X-X-X

_Dawn's Folly_

She ignored the first two knocks on the door of the small quarters Cem had directed her to after she'd sent her vaguely-phrased message on to Coruscant. For an hour, she'd sat on the cot-like bed in a mildly stunned state as her brain tried to catch up to the wholly shocking revelations of the past two hours.

First- and most relieving for her and her family- Cem was alive and well. Everything beyond that was… unbelievable; would have been, anyway, had she not been sitting there with Cem while he told the convoluted tale that had led to his disappearance, and to their capture-turned-recruitment of Leyla and Vulcor.

Syndic Csun'abr'inrokini was not the villain she'd imagined him to be in the past eight years. Trying to reconcile that fact with the lingering anger she'd felt towards him for years for what he did to her father and grandfather was occupying the greatest part of her thoughts. Granted, she still had plenty of reason to hold him accountable- if she understood Cem properly, including all that had _not_ been said, then the syndic was largely responsible for Alpha Red falling into the wrong hands.

The issue of Thrawn was of such incomprehensible magnitude that she wasn't even going to try to wrap her mind around it tonight. Her family already had such disparate views of the long-dead chiss leader- hated enemy of her mother's parents; trusted visionary to her father's family- that she supposed her own views had sort of ended up rather neutral in the matter.

Though it was a wholly different matter to actually speak to the clone, knowing that he carried memories of his template's self, knowing that he remembered the days fighting the New Republic, trying to kidnap her pregnant grandmother to get at her twin children. Regardless of what Cem said, she'd be hard-pressed to ever overlook that particular detail of Thrawn's former life, though it did leave her with the bizarre question of just how much she could hold the clone responsible for the original's actions.

Those questions would be pondered- repeatedly, she suspected- in the days to come. For now, as the knock sounded on her door for the third time, Leyla groaned and closed her eyes, reaching out in the Force to silently yell at the visitor to go away. Her efforts were wasted, and Vulcor gave up and just opened the door on his own, much to her chagrin.

"Go away," she grumbled, lying flat on her back and staring up at the ceiling.

His face hovered sideways in her vision as he slowly approached the bed and peered down at her in confused concern. "What's wrong?" She remained steadfastly silent while she seethed. "You've been crying."

"Have not," she betrayed the words with an angry swipe at the lingering moisture in the corners of her eyes.

He smiled gently and she closed her eyes. "Can I sit?" She shrugged apathetically, and felt the weight of the bed shift moments later as he sat on the edge midway between her head and her feet. "Won't you talk to me?"

Leyla laughed mirthlessly and opened her eyes, meeting his deep grey ones coolly. "If only to give you the satisfaction of saying 'I told you so,' why not?"

"If you're having second thoughts-"

She held up a hand and he ceased, waiting for her to talk. Pondering how to begin to explain for a long minute, she finally spoke in a soft, forcedly calm voice. "When I was a little girl… when Xela and Wrynn took me…" he looked surprised but stayed quiet, "all I had was the Force, it was my only refuge from fear and isolation, my only way to connect to my mother and my uncle, and my grandmother… and to Kyp, though I didn't yet recognize the significance of the ease with which I could sense his presence, his concern for me. And through that experience, I learned to foster that connection, _especially_ with my parents; I don't think they even realized how in tune I became with them in the next few years.

"And then when I was eleven, dad- Kyp- reprimanded me for paying too much attention to that connection, to reading into things that weren't any of my business… because I knew that he had argued with mom about something, I could tell well enough when they were both upset. So I tried to let the link dissipate a little, but…" her voice caught a bit. "When mom thought that dad was dead…"

It was one of Vulcor's most distressing memories as well, to tell the truth. Leyla had been on Ossus at the time, and her sudden hysterical distress had resonated in the minds of all of the instructors and in some of the older, more trained students. "What's happened, Leyla?"

"I don't know," she murmured quietly, tonelessly. "But something's been broken, and it's my fault."

X-X-X-X

_Coruscant_

Jag opened the door with relief when Han and Leia reappeared with Naviin late in the afternoon. After hours of trying to break Jaina out of her brooding anger, he'd finally relented and retreated to watch the HoloNet News while he waited for his son to return, while Jaina curled up quietly on the bed. He hoped that Navi's presence would do something to snap her out of it, and Leia was pretty much his last resort, as the only fully Force-trained family member immediately available.

Whether or not he sensed his mother's gloomy emotions, Naviin seemed to recognize that he needed to see his mother, and he disappeared to the bedroom after giving his father a hasty hug. Meanwhile, Jag led Han and Leia into the sitting room, and his mother-in-law gave him a look that was part knowing and part curious. "I haven't felt Jaina in a mood this dark in years," she said quietly.

Jag sat heavily in an empty chair and shook his head. "Leyla has, for all intents and purposes, gone rogue."

Han frowned. "Isn't that what Vulcor was going to take care of?"

He shrugged helplessly. "It was and he did. They were supposedly en route here as of this morning. And within a matter of hours, they get a message at the temple that they aren't coming back for an indeterminate period of time, and that Vulcor is only going along with her because he refuses to come back without her; which is, I suppose, about the only _good_ element of it all." He sighed. "Anyway, Jaina's angry at Leyla, and she's even angrier at Kyp for not telling her right away when Leyla changed plans in Senex with no warning and… well, she sort of let that anger get the better of her with Kyp and Gennevi."

"You know," Han pointed out, "Jaina was younger than Leyla when she disappeared and only saw us once in more than two years."

"Yeah, and whose fault was that?" Jag asked him pointedly. "I think you've just hit on the crux of the problem."

X-X-X-X


	4. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

_Coruscant_

After three days of debate and deliberation, Senator Polla Essada of Gyndine emerged the easy successor of Ferrin Belotab as the next Galactic Alliance Chief of State. The ceremony in the plaza of the Executive Building was, perhaps, not as grandiose as would normally befit the ascension of a new leader, but the solemnity of the circumstances surrounding the resignation of the former Chief of Staff and the election of a new one dictated a certain low-key quality to the proceedings. Indeed, Essada had first suggested forgoing the public ceremony altogether, but her predecessor had pointed out that the people liked to feel involved and, especially in the case of a Senate-only election, it was fitting to give the general populace an open, if superficial, look at their new representative to the galaxy.

Anonymous in the masses of people present in the plaza were too lithe figures, heavily swathed in formal robes, faces concealed by thick veils in a custom proper to their affected home world, should anyone ask, watched the proceedings absently while they, in fact, had their attentions focused on the mood of the crowd, on any abnormalities in attitude, in intent…

"They'd be foolish to try something today," the figure on the left murmured in their native tongue. "Acting against Essada would only signal to anyone with half a clue that Belotab's downfall was orchestrated."

"But," her companion muttered softly back, "to act against _Belotab_ would begin Essada's rule with fear, would keep the government on edge and distracted from the next phase."

The first considered a moment, watching calmly as Ferrin Belotab and Polla Essada shook hands and the office was formally resigned by one and taken up by the other. The crowd was surprisingly subdued; Belotab had been a popular leader until the recent discontent began with the political upheavals and planetary secessions, and the people seemed to remember that they had once truly liked the man who was quietly stepping down to permit the Galactic Alliance to carry on with maximum efficiency. "Essada will be more easily swayed if she is off her guard," she finally surmised. "The political stage is set- we must now look to the military."

People milled about them and paid the two females little mind. After all, for the few who might have been able to hear them speak, Cheunh was a remarkably unknown language in this part of the galaxy.

X-X-X-X

_Coruscant_

Kyp took it to be a good sign when Jaina answered the door of the apartment with little delay. Less encouraging was the fact that as soon as she had, she turned around and retreated back towards the sitting room; but as she made no obvious demand for him to leave, either verbally or in the Force, he chose to take that as an invitation to follow. He slapped the pad on the wall and the door slid shut with a _hiss_ behind him. When he reached the other room, Jaina was sitting in an armchair, her feet drawn up and arms wrapped around her legs.

"Good timing," she remarked tonelessly. "Coincidence?"

He shook his head slowly, though she wasn't even looking at him. "Jag told me when to come by." That finally drew her full attention, and her head shot up in confusion. "I need to talk to you, alone."

She sighed and ran a hand through her dark hair. "Look, Kyp- what I said yesterday morning… I didn't mean it."

Kyp regarded her curiously. "Of course you meant it; it was entirely true. But that's not what I'm here to talk to you about." Jaina looked at him blankly. "Gavin Darklighter went to Gennevi last week. He's growing concerned about things in the Alliance, about things in the Defense Force. I guess Nek Bwua'tu paid him a very brief and very cryptic visit right after he was relieved of his post as Supreme Commander. He asked Gennevi to help him put together and train an independent squadron; Booster Terrik's already agreed to start outfitting one of the unused levels of the _Venture_ to serve as a base of operations."

"And?"

"And Darklighter feels that such a scheme might be best left off the official charts. From the military, from the government… from the Jedi. Especially from the Masters' Council."

Her lips quirked in wry humor. "That lasted."

"Well, that's where it gets complicated, but there's something else- Gennevi wants Jag to be squadron leader."

"She _what_?"

Kyp shrugged. "They've faced off in sims, she knows and trusts him… and she wants someone older, more disciplined for the job since a lot of the pilots she thinks she'll have are pretty young."

"Who is she pulling in for this little project?"

"A couple of kids who flew with Trinity squadron when Leyla and I did… one is a rodian who was forced out several months ago. Syal Antilles. It sounds like Jysella Horn might go with her. I think Darklighter made some recommendations, probably some others who got caught when Sullust and Bothawui pulled out."

"Jysella," Jaina murmured. "Interesting. So where does the Horn family stand on this?"

He sought the right words for a moment. "Corran and I have found some merit in the idea of… preemptive preparedness. We're pulling a wing of Jedi in to the project, which will help mask the activity of the non-Jedi team without being technically affiliated with it."

"Plausible deniability?"

He grinned. "Something like that. And…" he hesitated. "You're still one of the best Jedi pilots out there, Jaina." He held up a hand. "Before you make the same objections that Jag did, I'll reiterate what Booster told him- you can bring Naviin to the _Errant Venture_, and Wedge and Iella will be accompanying us for intel and coordinative purposes. He won't be lacking in someone to look out for him, if need be." She bit her lip and looked torn. "Jaina, I don't know what Leyla's doing, and of course I'm worried about her- but I know my daughter, and I trust her to do what she honestly thinks is the right thing; and I trust Vulcor to tell her in no uncertain terms when she's wrong. And… at the moment… that's really all I can do."

Jaina nodded reluctantly. "I'm sorry, Kyp."

He smiled a bit sadly. "It's not supposed to be easy, you know? For me… especially not for you."

"It's been twenty years."

"That doesn't mean that the memory can't still hurt."

X-X-X-X

_Council Headquarters- Csaplar- Csilla_

They were a regal bunch, the four Aristocras who comprised the Council of Families which was the highest authority within the Chiss Ascendancy- though it had its limitations on power imposed by the parliament. Their numbers had fluctuated in recent years as families rose and fell from power; the most recent change was the subtraction of the Chaf family two years prior with Chaf'orm'bintrano's death and a broken family line.

Equal in standing in every possible way save amongst each other, the four of them recognized- some grudgingly, some proudly- their stature within the council itself. At the top, the eldest of them, the one who served as intermediary between the council and the parliament was head of the Fourth House, Aristocra Adr'igi'sabosen. Next was head of the Second House, Aristocra Tsel'oru'nuruodo. The First House came next in standing with Aristocra Mitt'royvr'yni. And at the bottom, the Third House, still disgraced over the treachery of their kin, was Aristocra Haun'arnt'inrokini.

Today though, the four were equal in their consternation as they considered their next scheduled order of business: a meeting. It was not a meeting that was inherently strange; indeed, one might expect that the Council of Families meet with foreign envoys, official or otherwise. But the Ascendancy was a political entity unlike any other, and the political realities of the entity had provided for little outside contact in the past nine years, since the withdrawal of the body from the larger Galactic Alliance.

But it could not be denied that their visitor had been a staunch ally. A long-forgotten alliance had been forged between his empire and theirs, an alliance which had encouraged this council to approve military action by General Fel in order to protect the capital world of their guest's empire, even when those attackers had in no way first threatened the Ascendancy.

Their visitor was an ally of a dead alliance, in a realm that had long ago shunned foreign inclusion, to the point that this very council had agreed to withdraw from the Galactic Alliance; to the point that others, quiet factions, had schemed the removal of General Fel and his son, Ambassador Fel, from the Ascendancy altogether- by death if need be. No, the Ascendancy had no great love for humans. It did beg the question, however-

Just what was it that Gilad Pellaeon wanted?

X-X-X-X

_Kuat – Orbital Driveyards_

It started out as a standard morning for the Assistant Director of Operations of the Kuat Driveyards primary facility in orbit around the planet; his assistant, a young gotal male, brought him a cup of caf, gave him an account of any pertinent information regarding the overnight shift, and transferred the most recently updated account of his daily schedule to his datapad. The first matter on the schedule gave him immediate pause, however, and he frowned at his assistant. "Wharren, this first appointment has a procurement flag next to it- why wasn't it made with the proper department head?"

"Ah," the gotal bobbed his head, horns glinted in the office's lighting. "You were requested personally, Mr. Lassiter."

"Hm," he glanced back down at the datapad and tapped the time slot, pulling up the information on the meeting. Frowning, he tried to recall any familiarity he might have with the name MT Horn, and was about to give up when he ever so vaguely recalled, among the plethora of people he had been quickly introduced to at his sister's wedding, the name Horn.

One of the Jedi, perhaps? That was right, a longtime acquaintance of Durron, Master Corran Horn. And Horn, if he recalled correctly, was married to the daughter of none other than Booster Terrik- Mirax Terrik Horn. MT Horn.

Mirax Terrik Horn- former smuggler in her father's impressive network, turned more reputable doing charitable work for the Rebellion and early forms of the New Republic. And once the need for discreet shipping across Imperial lines was more or less nullified, once she'd married a member of Rogue squadron who later turned Jedi Knight, she'd continued to specialize in trading rare items that most people couldn't get their hands on in day to day life.

And now she was here, specially requesting a meeting with a man she'd briefly met and barely spoken to, at the galactic headquarters of the quite frankly impressive Kuat Driveyards operations. This could be interesting.

Keldon Lassiter glanced at the chrono on his desk and put the datapad down. It would still be another half-hour until Mirax Horn was due to arrive. "I'll keep the appointment," he told his assistant. "When Mrs. Horn arrives, show her in if she's alone. If she's not, find out who is with her first."

"Sir." Wharren nodded and backed out of the office, giving no indication that he may or may not have found those instructions at all peculiar. He was very professional in his work.

When she did arrive twenty-five minutes later, she was not, in fact, alone. When Wharren reported to him the identity of the person accompanying her, Keldon raised his brows but waved him on to allow them entrance. Standing, he accepted the older woman's hand, smiling a bit bemusedly. "Mrs. Horn," he nodded.

"Mr. Lassiter," she grinned easily, making her look far younger than her advancing but still middle-aged years. "Or would you prefer 'Director'?"

"Mister is fine," he returned drily. "Keldon is even better; especially given that we've met under informal circumstances before now."

"Keldon it is. Call me Mirax. And my young friend here," she gestured to the woman at her side with blonde hair, "is…"

"Syal Antilles," Keldon finished for her, shaking the younger woman's hand. "Pleasure. I believe we met very briefly as well, at my sister's wedding."

Syal nodded. "Yes, I believe we did," she acknowledged quietly.

Keldon gestured them into seats. "I won't deny that finding this appointment on my schedule this morning caught me rather off-guard. Normally a meeting regarding acquisitions of materiel would first go through a procurement officer before working its way up to a director, and that only if there were a problem that warranted it."

Mirax nodded her understanding. "Understood, Keldon- I hope you'll forgive the presumption then, but our query is of a somewhat… unusual nature… and we figured we'd just bypass the initial step and go right to the problem stage, if you understand me." He frowned slightly but nodded for her to go on. "Syal and I are interested in acquiring a number of decommissioned X-wing class starfighters; preferably XJ-six or seven model."

There was a brief silence while Keldon's frown deepened and Mirax eyed him calculatingly. Finally he coughed lightly into his hand and sat back, clasping his hands in front of him as he considered them. "So talk to Incom," he suggested evenly. "We haven't manufactured vehicles of that size in some time, as I expect you're fully aware." His tone was curious.

She shook her head. "We're not interested in anything new, and I know for a fact that, with the folding of the Fifth Fleet, the big cruiser-class frigates and bigger ships are cycling through maintenance at all the major shipyards. And in turn, those crews are parsing out the starfighters to determine which ones need maintenance and which ones need to be scrapped altogether. We're interested in the latter sort."

He stared. "You want junked fighters?" The two women nodded. "Mind if I ask why?"

Syal smiled lightly. "For able mechanics, it's far cheaper to salvage for parts from a dozen scrapped ships than to either buy a new ship or to buy all new replacement parts."

"That's not really what I meant when-"

Mirax shook her head. "It's for a volunteer unit that's forming. We're not at liberty to say much more."

"We don't sell military-class vessels to civilians," he pointed out.

"I'm not a civilian," Syal pointed out wryly. Pulling an identicard from her pocket, she slid it across the table to him, and he scanned it quickly, noting that the Antilles girl was, in fact, a naval lieutenant.

He perused the basic information offered. "Dancer squadron, based out of the _Blue Diver_…" he murmured. "What fleet are you with?"

The answer occurred to him even before she voiced it. "The Fourth, sir."

Keldon sighed and ran a hand through his brown hair. "And I was going to guess that my sister sent you in my direction. Darklighter then?" Their silence was confirmation enough. For a minute, he considered their request in silence, tapping a couple of interrogatives into his datapad to see what sort of capital ships they even had in their docks, and what preliminary assessments they had of their starfighter complements. "If you're looking for this to go forward without making it into the books, you should turn around and leave right now," he warned them. "Such as it is, I can't promise anything, and I _will_ have to speak with my superior."

"Understood," Mirax nodded sharply.

He sighed again. "Come back tomorrow; Wharren will make an appointment for you on your way out. And I'll see what I can do."

X-X-X-X


	5. Chapter 4

_Summer314 – _Thanks! I'm very glad to hear you're enjoying the story, and thanks for the review! ;-)

**Chapter 4**

_Dawn's Folly_

A sense of expectation, laced with anticipation, pulled Leyla from her bed aboard the Interdictor Cruiser and led her to wander her way slowly to the bridge of the ship. She got turned around once along the way- she had avoided the bridge and its confusing inhabitants in the days they had been traveling through hyperspace- and a passing crewman directed her stiltedly towards the appropriate turbolift that would deposit her on the correct level of the ship, his voice a thickly accented Basic.

She walked slowly into the command center, unsure whether her presence would be frowned upon or not. None of the passing chiss commented though, and when she caught Cem's eye as he looked up from the navigation console, he just nodded absently to her and went back to his task, conversing in low tones with the sergeant at the station.

Leyla went to the largest viewport on the bridge- smaller than that which would be found on an ordinary cruiser, given the more discreet placement of the command center in the vessels modified to chiss standards- and stared out at the overwhelming sight of star lines streaking past. They must be close to emerging from hyperspace for the protective tinting to be lowered, she decided.

She felt the alien presence approaching and stiffened- and then fought the urge to jump when he spoke close by her ear, having assumed he was just walking past. "Jedi Solo-Fel."

Gritting her teeth in irritation at her own tension, she remained staring steadfastly ahead. "Admiral?"

He chuckled lowly as he moved to stand by her side, heightening her frustration. "I am no admiral, Jedi Solo-Fel, though others will insist on so-calling me. It took your uncle three weeks to quit the habit, I do believe." She was silent, wondering if he would go about his business or if she should retreat to the living levels once more. "I wonder if we might speak, you and I."

So much for that idea. Leyla glanced over her shoulder to see Cem watching the two of them closely for a moment before he looked down again. She bit her lip. "Fine."

"You identified Syndic Nabrin at a glance," he commented mildly. "He says you've never met."

The question was evident in his words, if not in his tone. "Sir-"

"Thrawn."

She glanced at him, lips pursed, and continued. "My father spent the first eleven years of my life first fighting alongside the Chiss and later serving as an envoy and an ambassador for the Ascendancy. Few and far between though my visits to Csilla were, I had enough contact there and at his embassy to become familiar with the colors of the Ruling Families. I recognized the green of the Third house and beyond that… well, I couldn't very well imagine a legitimate force being so far out of Chiss space. As the syndic has been purportedly missing for several years, it was an easy assumption." He nodded once and seemed to accept her explanation. Leyla hesitated a moment and then turned to face him, steeling her resolve. "My turn then- why separate us, when you first brought us aboard? Surely you knew that would only heighten our suspicions?"

The corner of his mouth quirked upwards. "I am surprised you have not come to that answer on your own."

She scowled slightly and eyed him calculatingly. "By pulling us into separate hangars, you knew we wouldn't attempt to fight our way out, not until we had located one another again."

"Of course."

"Wrong."

"Oh?" a brow rose smoothly.

Her expression was one of pure exasperation. "If it were that simple, you'd have had Cem meet us, I wouldn't fight my own uncle. You wanted _me_, alone, just as you have done now. And I want to know why."

Rather than become affronted at her almost accusing tone, Thrawn looked positively delighted. "Oh, but you are a crafty one, my young Jedi. You have turned my request to speak with you to your own advantage, to seek the answers you've desired since you walked onto the bridge nearly five days ago." She continued watching him, brows raised, and a light chuckle slipped past his lips. "You are not to be distracted, I see. I'm afraid the answer is not particularly striking- I desired to see how you would react in such a situation, to see your composure under stress, your ability to read a situation from an impossible side of it… the result was quite impressive," he added kindly.

Leyla was skeptical. "An experiment?" she repeated his earlier explanation to Cem drily.

"Yes," he admitted frankly, unapologetically. Tearing her eyes away from his calculating red ones, Leyla turned back to stare out at the swirling colors beyond the viewport. "Captain Fel seems to feel that there will be a certain amount of inherent tension between the two of us, Jedi Solo-Fel."

"I have no reason to trust either you or the syndic," Leyla said bluntly, "and at this point, I have no particular reason to trust Cem."

"His deception had its purpose," Thrawn countered evenly. "As will your own."

"You presume a great deal, Thrawn."

"Do I?" he asked calmly. "Perhaps I simply base my assertion on two generations of acquaintance with your family."

She smiled thinly. "Then I wonder if Cem's made you aware of the fact that I'm not technically his niece."

"Then we should understand one another quite well, Leyla Solo-Fel," Thrawn answered, voice coolly sardonic, "as I am not born a Mitth. But tell me- are you any less a Fel for it?"

"I suppose time will tell," she murmured almost inaudibly, closing her eyes as she tried to ignore the confusing emotions that she still picked up from her mother and from Kyp.

Much to her consternation, his voice was something akin to sympathetic. "I suspect you may come to surprise yourself on that front, Jedi Solo-Fel."

Unbeknownst to her, she echoed Cem's sentiments almost precisely. "You met me only a few days ago."

"True," he allowed, "but I have been _waiting_ to meet you for quite some time."

Before she could form an appropriately nonplussed response to that assertion, a flash of irritation caught her attention, and she glanced towards the corridor from which she'd come on the bridge, and saw Vulcor standing there eyeing the two of them almost suspiciously. Cem stood from the navigation console and came towards them, though it was unclear to Leyla whether he'd timed the interruption for Vulcor's arrival or whether it was simple coincidence.

"_Crahsystor_," Cem addressed Thrawn with a nod, "we revert in sixty seconds. Syndic Nabrin will be here presently."

Vulcor joined their little group and nodded curtly to Cem and Thrawn, both of whom departed quietly to prepare for their imminent arrival at their home base. His dark eyes followed them until a crew member called something out in Cheunh; the star lines faded away and became fixed points once more as a small planetoid grew in the viewport.

"What was all that about?" Vulcor murmured.

Leyla glanced over to where her uncle was standing and conversing quietly with the cloned chiss. She looked away when the elderly syndic appeared and joined them. "Honestly," she looked up at the other Jedi, "I haven't the slightest clue."

X-X-X-X

_Coruscant_

Every time he found himself sitting in his office in the Jedi temple on Coruscant, Luke Skywalker couldn't help but take a fleeting moment to reflect on how much he preferred the simplicity of Ossus. True, both temples acted as academies to varying extents- Coruscant catered to older students and Masters' apprentices, Ossus to the younglings- but the temple on Coruscant automatically inherited a certain political concern as well. It was also true that even if Luke was on Ossus, he still dealt with important matters of the GA capital via meetings with the Masters' Council that occurred at least weekly and oftentimes closer to daily- but that step away from the center of things allowed him a better perspective, he thought.

In the current events though, he wasn't sure a detached view would suffice to accomplish much of anything. Coruscant wasn't the problem, per say, he just seemed to be getting more frequent confusing news since his arrival.

Zekk was alive and apparently well- and though Leia and Han had not seen her, he was forced to conclude that Tahlia was as well, given Leia's report that Zekk referred to the collective 'we.' That was good in principle, but opened up a whole new set of questions regarding Sullust and the rogue Jedi's involvement there, if any.

It also forced another question, one that Luke didn't think Han and Leia had really considered in depth in light of the surprise of encountering Zekk at all- how did he know they'd be on Sullust in the first place? It could have _maybe _been attributed to coincidence, but they were on the planet for so short a duration of time that it seemed unlikely that the rendezvous could have been easily arranged, if it was indeed conspired between Zekk and Niuv or Niuv's assistant.

And then there was the matter of Leyla. Luke knew and trusted his great-niece, to be sure, but she was somewhat unpredictable, in his opinion. It wasn't the sort of impassioned unpredictability that had characterized Jaina in her youth; Leyla had no such tendencies of jumping headlong into a situation without first analyzing it, but her sudden abandonment of her itinerary in Senex did call for some serious discussion whenever she returned.

Calling for more immediate and serious discussion, however, was the fact that she had now pulled a second vanishing act, this time pulling Vulcor in her wake.

No, Leyla's unpredictability stemmed from something deeper, Luke thought, than simple passion and gut instinct. It was a shifting sense of self, an evolving identity that had remained constantly fluid through her adolescence, as she'd come to terms with her origins, as different situations brought forward different sides of her personality. Both Kyp and Jaina saw more of Jag in her than themselves, but Luke saw more than a little of Kyp emerge at times, and he suspected that it was a side of her that would remain largely unexplored until it became strictly necessary.

Leyla was twenty years old, and the closest she'd come to any tendencies of the Dark side was when she was sixteen and she'd shot a man in cold blood- but she had not been herself at the time, had spent hours under the effects of debilitating drugs and, by all accounts, should not have been conscious at all during the rescue operation. And then she'd fretted about it later, had pulled back a little emotionally as she'd pondered and meditated on that dormant vengeful side; a vengeful side that carried echoes of the teenage Kyp Durron.

Luke had no fear that his great-niece would be tempted by the Dark side as her father had been, but her awareness of the darkness in her roots kept her cautious in all facets of life. But the truth was, in terms of raw potential… with the Force heritage of the Skywalkers mixed with Kyp's extraordinary powerfulness that had shocked Luke upon their first meeting… Leyla carried the ability to surpass them all.

For Kyp Durron, it had been a second imprisonment, aboard Natasi Daala's Star Destroyer, that had unleashed his potent desire- not for revenge- but to never again be helpless. And Luke wondered if Leyla would ever have that defining moment in her life, when she recognized the full force of her potential in the interests of a cause, be it personal or otherwise.

Because if she did, she would have the power to be great. But if she did…

…_that_'s when Luke would start to worry about Leyla and temptation.

The tap on the door came right on schedule, and he looked up to see Jaina poking her head into the office. He waved her in with a gentle smile, and she shut the door behind her before taking a seat in front of his desk. "Uncle Luke?"

He studied her closely for a minute; he'd have been pretty oblivious to have missed her initial angered frustration over her daughter's actions, but she seemed to have resigned herself somewhat in the couple of days since. And now she had a new sense of purpose to distract her from that frustration. "Corran tells me that you're joining the assembling Stealth wing out on the _Errant Venture_."

"I am."

She offered nothing else, and Luke's lips quirked a bit wryly. "He also tells me that Jag is going with you; that Gennevi is accompanying Kyp."

Her smile was charming. "Well, you know- it won't be all hard work."

"Hm," he nodded, frowning lightly. "And you're sure that taking Navi with you is the best plan?"

Something in her eyes flashed very briefly, and her words were a bit stilted. "My son will come with me," she confirmed.

"Very well," he leaned back and pursed his lips. "I had the comms team run some analysis of Leyla's transmission." Jaina sat up straighter and couldn't conceal the sudden curious interest on her face. "They were able to construct a partial reverse echo and determine that it did, in fact, originate from a point not far off of Eriadu." Her face was blank as she waited for something they couldn't already guess. "The transmission was beamed twice though _before_ it came through to Coruscant; first to Obroa-Skai and then Borleais."

It took a moment for her to understand the significance of that, but then her eyes widened slightly and she scowled. "The standard subspace transceiver carried in an X-wing doesn't have that kind of range. If she didn't beam a message through Eriadu, her craft shouldn't have been able to put it through much further than Yag'Dhul or Rhommamool." The scowl deepened. "She and Vulcor are traveling by other means now."

"That's how it looks. Looking back, is there any reason that you'd suspect they weren't using their Stealths upon departing Eriadu?"

Jaina shook her head adamantly. "No, and I don't think even now that such was the case."

"Why?"

"That message came directly from Vulcor," she replied bluntly. "And whatever happened between their departure from Eriadu and Leyla's message, I honestly believe that he was a less-than-willing party to it. No, they met up with somebody- whether by chance or design- mid-route."

Luke nodded; it made sense, unfortunately. "Well, I wanted you to know that, whatever she's up to, she seems to be working with or at least alongside someone else." Jaina nodded heavily. "One other thing," he added a bit reluctantly, "you and Kyp…?"

She let out a soft huff and slumped in her seat. "After Navi was born, Uncle Luke, you remember how hard it was for me, when Kyp left? After spending months in constant close-quarters with him and- more importantly- with his constant connection to me in the Force?" Luke nodded understandingly. "We finally just accepted that we had little control over that link and let it run its course, supposing that it would just fade away gradually over time."

"Did it?"

She shrugged. "It diminished in the years of Leyla's apprenticeship when we rarely saw each other, and then while he was living on Coruscant and seeing Gennevi. But it never really disappeared altogether."

"Jaina?"

"I think that, the other day, I finally managed to sever it completely. It's probably for the best, ultimately, but it was unintentional and… it hurt."

X-X-X-X

_Dawn's Folly_

"What is this fascination with the girl?" Nabrin murmured lowly beside Thrawn. They were standing side-by-side on the bridge and, while Nabrin's attention was focused on the sensor displays, Thrawn had one eye focused on the gathering on the far side of the deck, where Cem was conversing quietly with Leyla and Vulcor about shuttling down to the surface shortly. "Surely even death and cloning are not sufficient to give you a physical attraction to this… human."

For a brief moment, both of Thrawn's eyes were fixed on Nabrin's, before he resumed peering curiously across the bridge. "You think it impossible- an abomination, perhaps- for a chiss and a human to intrigue one another in such a way?" His lips curved in that strange smile that Nabrin had long associated with old memories, memories that came from genetic material and flash-learning, rather than his physical experiences. "But no, Syndic, my interest in the girl is not so… primal. Regardless, she is little more than a child, by human standards."

"Her companions don't seem to think so."

They discreetly watched the conversation from afar, though both were well-aware that their attentions would not go unnoticed for long. "Indeed," Thrawn murmured lightly, "they seem to regard her as an equal, do they not?"

"Jedi are different, regardless of species."

Thrawn was silent for a long time, his piercing gaze still fixed on the dark-haired girl, until her own eyes flickered over to the two of them for a just an instant. The chiss chuckled softly and diverted his attention back towards the syndic. "Perhaps the Jedi are different, but in this case, I believe it is _she_ who is different. I have waited a long time to make the acquaintance of Leyla Solo-Fel, Nabrin."

Nabrin was still nonplussed. "But _why_?"

"Because she is the great-granddaughter of the epitome of evil; because she is the granddaughter of a baron and of a princess, the daughter of a Jedi and a Master, and an ambassador. She is the child of the Republic and the Empire, of the Jedi and the Hand- and yes, of the Ascendancy that turned its back on her and her family.

"She _is_ the Galactic Alliance, Nabrin, a physical manifestation of the interweaving of the most important political bodies in this galaxy. And just as that Alliance was born out of the war with the Far Outsiders- so was she."

"And just as during that invasion," Nabrin commented drily, "the forces of evil threaten to tear that Alliance asunder."

X-X-X-X


	6. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

_Coruscant_

As Jag walked into the maintenance bay of the hangar in the Jedi temple, he couldn't help but smile at the way the sight before him evoked images of when he'd first met Jaina Solo. Shoulder deep in the access hatch behind the space where the astromech usually sat, a mixture of clangs and curses echoed around the vast chamber until Jag cleared his throat loudly. She extracted her arm- grease stains up to the elbow- and sat up and grinned down at her husband and son.

"Young ears, darling."

"Like it's nothing he's not already heard from my father," she scoffed teasingly, but curtailed the less-than-savory language. Pulling a rag- also grease-stained- from her pocket, she wiped her hands relatively ineffectually and then slid to the edge of the craft and leapt down gracefully, cushioning her fall with the Force. Jag leaned forward and gave her a carefully placed kiss- she somehow had managed to smudge dirt across her cheeks as well- and looked appraisingly up at the fighter. "I'm almost done here," she answered his unspoken question. "Anyway, you should hear Kyp over on the far side of the hangar."

"Oh? Is he not keeping his craft up to proper standards?"

Jaina smirked drily. "He's been a bit lax in maintenance since removing to Coruscant. You'd almost think he had other matters to distract him."

"As a Jedi, I'm sure such would _never_ be the case." He looked up at the fighter again. "So whose craft is this?"

They walked side-by-side, Naviin staring wide-eyed around the massive bay as they circled around towards the other side. "It's Jysella's," Jaina murmured quietly. "She's out with Mirax and Syal; once they're done, they'll drop her on Ossus to bring mine and we can trade at the _Venture_."

"Don't sound so relieved," he teased.

"I miss Sneaky," she pouted. "Have you heard from Wedge and Iella?"

He nodded and spoke softly. "They'll leave Corellia tomorrow and rendezvous with Booster near Commenor. And…" he hesitated, "I spoke with my parents; they're lifting off tomorrow as well. It sounds like they're going to take care of a few things back on Corellia and then go back out to Bastion." Jaina looked up at him in surprise. "They offered to take Navi with them," he mumbled still quieter, not wanting their son to hear.

"Why? What did you tell them?"

He shrugged. "I didn't explicitly say what I'll be doing in the coming weeks, but they're smart enough to have guessed by now; and with Wedge and Iella joining Booster as well…"

A silence fell between them even as Naviin hurried ahead to where Kyp was working on his own fighter; he managed to cease his own curses of frustration long before the seven-year-old reached him, however. "You're thinking about it," Jaina commented mildly.

Her tone wasn't accusing, but Jag felt a little defensive. "I…wonder if there isn't some merit in the idea," he confessed. "We're talking about training squadrons here, Jaina; that's not exactly work that lends itself to a great deal of free time. And yes, Wedge and Iella, and Gennevi will be on the _Errant Venture_ even if we were pulled away, but… they'll have their own duties and I don't want Navi to feel like he's being constantly shuffled around."

"Instead, you want to send him off to the Empire?"

"No," he countered, "I'm considering the idea, first of all, I haven't made up my mind. But it's not like we'd be shipping him off on his own, he'd be with family, and he'd get to known Wyn and Syd and Ashlin a little better, which is something Leyla never really got to do."

Jaina sighed. "I just hate the idea of him being so far away."

"You hate it because you don't know where Leyla is," Jag told her quietly. "But when it comes down to it, it might be the best idea."

She was a long time in answering, watching Kyp show Navi something on the StealthX and pick him up so he could better see the panel he'd been working on. And as she watched Kyp swing him around and saw Naviin's laughing face, with his tousled dark hair and bright hazel eyes, she smiled wistfully. "I hate the prospect of being separated from him."

"But do you hate it for his sake or for your own?" She closed her eyes. "Your parents recognized the unfortunate necessity of leaving you and your brothers in the capable hands of Winter, or Chewbacca, when circumstances dictated it."

Her answering laugh was sardonic. "And can you imagine what they'd say, now that the prospect of sending Naviin to the _Empire_ seems to be the safest option for him?"

"I'm sure your Rebel-sympathizing-family are just secretly horrified at the fact that you have in-laws living amongst their old nemeses."

"_Your_ dad defected to those Rebels," she elbowed him in the side.

"_Your_ dad almost had a promising career as an Imperial officer."

"You know," she cocked her head, "who needs them to fight; we can do it for them."

"We really do have a very complicated family dynamic, don't we?" He reached down and pulled her hand into his. "I wouldn't trade it for anything."

Smiling up at him, she let her eyes flicker once over to where Kyp was sitting on the edge of the cockpit, talking to Naviin who had managed to work his way up into the cockpit of the fighter while they were talking- probably with some Force-assistance from Kyp. He was so short that they couldn't even see the top of his head over the edge, but then he pulled himself up so he could grin broadly down at them and wave. Jaina waved back. "Even Kyp?"

Jag chuckled. "Even Kyp." He glanced down to their joined hands. "Your hands are filthy."

"Yeah? Well guess what?"

"Hm?"

"Now yours are too."

X-X-X-X

_Wild Space – Planetoid 5249125_

As they disembarked the shuttle on a world that was, by the looks of things on their approach, hot and muggy, Leyla felt a wave of apprehension wash over her. It wasn't due strictly to anything about this unknown and untested small planet that was teeming with life- sentient, animal, and plant- so much as the feeling in her own mind, however ridiculous, that she was about to commit to something with no chance of going back, no possibility of return. However grudgingly at the moment, she did trust Cem- though she filed away the realization that she really didn't know her uncle at all for further consideration- and as much as she may be uneasy around Nabrin and Thrawn, there was no indication from either of them that they were playing any sort of game.

No, the three leaders of this crazy endeavor were clearly worried about the possibility of galactic devastation in the semi-near future and, as a Jedi Knight- and yes, as a Solo, a Skywalker, a Durron, and a Fel- she really saw no viable alternative to learning as much as she could about the matter, whether or not she would remain out here in the Unknown Regions for any lengthy duration of time.

It was obvious that Cem and Thrawn were banking on secrecy to win the battle for them. In turn, that led Leyla to the assumption that _they_ thought that, whatever it was they had to tell her and Vulcor, or show them, it would convince them of the necessity to remain with the Empire of the Hand, to join forces with them to defeat whatever new evil was threatening the galaxy. At the present moment, Leyla was uncertain how she felt about that presumption, especially when it came to Vulcor, who had been so adamantly against making this journey in the first place.

The burden of proof, such as it was, was certainly on Cem. Then again, with more than four million dead bothans on Torolis…

Torolis. She'd looked up the basic data on the planet after Vulcor had relayed news of the 'plague' to her.

Colony world; Bothan Space; population- approximately six million.

Six million.

Her next steps were stiff as she tried to comprehend the ramifications of that statistic. A vague sense of spatial awareness allowed her to duck away as Vulcor went to lay a curiously concerned hand on her shoulder, as he sensed her sudden disquiet. The remainder of the walk through the hangar, the descent in a keycoded turbolift, the traversal of three corridors in a duracrete-reinforced bunker beneath the surface of the unnamed planet all passed in a daze of semi-awareness as her mind worked overtime to process things.

Directed to a chair, she sat and finally got a bearing on her surroundings; they were in a high-tech conference room with an elaborate comm-transceiver setup, sophisticated computer software apparatus, and multipurpose holoscreen and holocam that must have allowed for both in-room data-analysis and the reception of outside transmissions.

The attendance of the meeting was sparse- herself and Vulcor; Thrawn, Nabrin, and Cem; one other chiss, a female, and a reptilian humanoid of a species Leyla did not recognize, with skin of a motley green and orange that was visible beneath dark scales on the being's face.

Cem glanced around the room. "Leyla, Jedi Vulcor- Major Ra-ban is our chief communications officer for this outpost," he nodded towards the reptilian figure, and then turned to the third chiss in the room. "Commander Suyani is our military liaison, though we have few forces here. You may speak freely in front of them. Outside this room, however, Mitth'raw'nuruodo is _Crahsystor_; Csun'abr'inrokini is simply Syndic. Orders sent outside this post are issued in my name only. The Ascendancy has too much interest in Syndic Nabrin, and hearing the name 'Thrawn' again would unnecessarily distract certain outside parties, though most senior commanders within the Hand are aware of the situation. Understood?"

"How did you maintain secrecy prior to three months ago?" Vulcor frowned. "You weren't here to issue orders."

"Few orders were being issued," Cem answered easily. "The resources of the Hand are many, and they are too spread for the Ascendancy to have ever hoped to locate and absorb them all; Thrawn expended a great deal of time and energy in making contact with the old posts which are still viable- and they waited, standing by for our signal, for some time." He took a few steady breaths and looked from Vulcor to Leyla and back again. "Soon though, you will understand that military forces will ultimately count for little, with what we are up against."

Leyla interrupted him before he could continue. "I want to talk about Torolis."

"We'll obviously cover that before-"

"_Now_, Cem." He looked at her with surprise that was just barely visible behind his eyes. "Something doesn't add up. I don't know why I didn't see it before."

Thrawn looked at her steadily. "What troubles you, Jedi Solo-Fel?"

Vulcor muttered something under his breath about normal beings not needing to ask that question when discussing the matter of millions of dead sentients; Leyla ignored him. "Alpha Red," she began slowly, "failed its intended purpose for one main reason: mutation." Nabrin inclined his head jerkily at the mention of his failure and that of his scientists. "The pathogen built upon itself, interacted with each host even as it killed indiscriminately, thereby facilitating the spread with astounding speed even as it changed to the point that it could jump across species barriers and affect organisms to which it was not originally tailored. All within minutes."

Glancing around quickly, as though aware of a trap but not yet seeing it, Cem nodded unsurely.

"You told us," she continued, looking between her uncle and the two chiss leaders, "that the pathogen which later came to be known as Alpha Red originated in a campaign against another species, the vagaari. Using that pathogen as a blueprint," she met Nabrin's eyes, "you kept the pathology of the product essentially the same but tailored the genetics to organisms that carried signature traces of Yuuzhan Vong species. The same product, a different species- the same weaknesses. The same propensity towards mutation."

Nabrin nodded slowly. Leyla shifted her eyes back around to Thrawn and then to Cem. "On Torolis, four million bothans died. The disease was tailored to the bothan race and released on Torolis, and four million bothans died."

Cem shook his head. "Leyla, I'm not sure what you're getting at here, but-"

"The population of Torolis is _six_ million," she hissed. "Four million _bothans_ died on a world with another two million humans, and rodians, and gamorreans."

Cem opened his mouth but Thrawn held up a hand and cut him off, peering intently at the young Jedi. "Good," he murmured, "now follow it through. What does that tell you?"

She was too riled to be perturbed by the calculating intensity in his tone. "It tells me one of two possibilities must be true," she answered him coldly. "The first- that whoever came to be in possession of your project took it, adapted it, and perfected it, maintaining the frightening efficiency of the spreading of the disease without retaining the properties that enabled it to mutate so effectively. But," she eyed Nabrin with a hard gaze, "I don't think that's what happened.

"You documented the adaptation of a pathogen from the vagaari to the Yuuzhan Vong; therefore, your thief had a logical starting point from which to adapt it to bothans… or sullustans… or rodians. Because as you've just admitted, the two carried a common pathology, altered only on the genetic level.

"And while someone had spent twenty years creating the means with which to incur instant death on any number of species, you must have been doing something about it- the only thing you could. You've been tailoring a second substance specifically designed to _counter_ the common pathology that must have surely been the starting point in creating the pathogen which killed four million _bothans_ on Torolis." His silence and the Force were all she needed to know that she was right. "Only bothans died on Torolis because you gave it just enough time to spread- and then killed it before it could mutate across species lines; before it could be carried off-planet."

Thrawn answered her evenly, without pause. "Yes; you see then the direness of what we face? That we must accept such heavy sacrifice before the battle has truly begun?"

"I see that you knew the when and the where in well-enough time to have prevented that sacrifice!" she exclaimed.

"And then what?" the clone asked reasonably. She blinked. "The substance fails; does our quarry give up?"

"You knew about Torolis, you know about Sullust and Falleen-"

Thrawn held up a long blue finger. "Precisely," he murmured. "It would really come to a game of chance, would it not?"

"I don't-" she stared at him for a long minute, uncomprehending, aware of Vulcor's rising emotions throughout the exchange as he sat stiffly by her side. A cold and unpleasant sensation began to twist through her gut as she considered it. "You _only_ know about those systems that have seceded," she concluded flatly.

His lip curled in a sardonic smile. "We've made some intelligent guesses- Thyferra, Dac- but the only ones we've managed the wherewithal of tracing and tracking are, in fact, those who have been threatened into secession. But there is a big difference between blackmailing the Bothan Council on Bothawui into seceding and… say… blackmailing Cha Niathal into breaking her sworn oath of loyalty to the Galactic Alliance in her capacity as Supreme Commander."

Closing her eyes and falling heavily back in her seat, Leyla could feel the sense of hopelessness try to creep up on her but she shoved it forcibly back. Looking blearily up at Cem, she shook her head. "From the beginning?"

He nodded. "From the beginning."

X-X-X-X

_Coruscant_

Specially-elected Chief of State Polla Essada found herself inundated with work the moment she took up her new position. That fact wasn't surprising in and of itself, but just the sheer quantity of information, proposals and requests that found their ways onto her desk in the first day alone had her astounded and overwhelmed.

On the third day of her new job, she found herself meeting with assorted military advisers, some in person and some on holocom, and she frowned heavily at what they had to report. "I was of the impression that the system secessions in the past several months were wholly unrelated to one another?" she said questioningly. "You're telling me now that several of them are forming their own confederation?"

Her chief Intelligence adviser, Heol Girdun, nodded uneasily. "It is possible that some systems feel… vulnerable… without the power of the collective Galactic Alliance behind them, and that these measures are for peace of mind more than any true cause for concern. But reports do indicate that a number of recently departed systems are entreating to pool military forces and intelligence operations.

"And has anyone told them that returning to GA membership would solve any of that unease and vulnerability?" Essada asked, lips quirking. Girdun shrugged, face blank. "Very well- do we have any particular reason to be concerned with these events? I mean, Rodia isn't exactly known for its military strength."

"No," Cha Niathal spoke in her gravelly voice from the holocom display, "but Sullust and even Bothawui are. We cannot afford to discount the threat that is posed by the Sorosuub corporation if, for whatever reason, some anti-GA force began utilizing their facilities to supply an opposing navy. It is my suggestion that we monitor the activities of this newly-forming confederation _extremely_ closely… and that we make it clear to whatever leadership emerges in the coming days that any military operating within Galactic Alliance space and without the consent of that Alliance _will _be viewed as a potential threat- and will be dealt with accordingly as such."

Ithorian Senator Ryoqim, one of the three available members of the Naval Oversight Committee, looked at the Mon Cal admiral somberly. "We must not allow paranoia to guide our actions, Admiral Niathal," he spoke in a grave, rumbling voice. "To be wary is commendable, but let us not forget the principles of freedom upon which this Alliance is based. Acting in haste could well send us all spinning down a path from which it is difficult to leave."

Essada nodded gratefully at the ithorian and looked back up at the holoscreen. "You both make excellent points," she conceded. "Given our lack of true understanding of motivation, it seems prudent that we maintain vigilance in regards to the actions of this new confederation," she smiled a bit apologetically at the peace-minded senator. "But Senator Ryoqim is, of course, quite right- our principles will certainly not allow us to act in any manner ill-befitting our great standing in the galaxy."

X-X-X-X

_Wild Space – Planetoid 5249125_

"The collaborative effort between the biotechnicians of the Inrokini project and New Republic Intelligence," Cem began speaking steadily, "was under the ultimate authority of Intelligence chief Dif Scaur and Alpha Blue director Jan Ors, and overseen directly by project leader Joi Eicroth. The fact that the substance was being derived from a pre-existing pathogen was kept to as few of the parties involved as possible- but there were seven NRI biotechs working on it as well who may have been able to guess that fact based on what they were given to work with. It's difficult to say.

"Of those seven techs," the screen came to life behind Cem and profiled any available information they had on them, "three were immediately identified as killed in the line of duty in the latest days of the war, though Intelligence files on them were, at the time, under the strictest security. Two carried on with Intelligence to help build up such agencies, also under Scaur's direction, as the Galactic Alliance Guard and the GA Intel Service.

"Two more," the screen changed behind Cem as he ran down the seven subject, "were not as readily identified in the days after the security breach. Neither appeared to carry on in a government capacity, and their files documenting their history of work with NRI were locked down and closed. It wasn't until years later that Thrawn and Nabrin gained the wherewithal to access those files, but by then they had identified the initial source of the security breach."

Leyla stared at the screen; on the left was a lurrian male, a hairy species known for their abilities at genetic manipulation and bioengineering- indeed, the planet Lur boasted of an efficient use of genetically-altered domesticated animals that served in capacities to make up for a lack of more traditional planetary technology. The species had a history of being used and enslaved, usually in the interests of abusing their scientific capabilities.

On the right was a bothan.

"It was the bothan, wasn't it?" she asked quietly.

Cem nodded. "Very good; how did you know?"

She drew a heavy breath. "Two reasons. First- a lurrian would not have needed eighteen years to adapt the project however he saw fit. Second- _ar'krai_."

"_Ar'krai_ was a major consideration in the early days," Cem nodded towards Thrawn and Nabrin, who must have been nearly alone in their crusade at first. "Unfortunately, too little was known to allow it to be the _only_ consideration, and resources had to be expended tracking down two leads. And then, after months…" he paused. "The leads went cold."

Vulcor looked at him stonily. "_How_ cold?"

Thrawn answered. "Hopelessly so. For some five years, we were forced to divert our attentions; Nabrin into creating and perfecting a product that would successfully nullify the deadly effects of the base of the pathogen; myself, into establishing contact with old resources of my fallen but sizeable Empire. Some of my old peoples had long maintained their faith, their loyalty, and their militarism- those such as the eickarie," he nodded towards the reptilian comm officer. "And out here… carefulness and isolation have been our allies, while Nabrin, operating for several years within the Ascendancy, was forced to hide his new endeavors, lest the project become known and a target for sabotage."

Leyla cocked a brow. "And aren't you at all concerned that Cem's disappearance will have compromised your secrecy?"

Vulcor muttered something else, too low for even Leyla, seated beside him, to catch. Thrawn looked drily amused. "Not at all; in fact," his eyes glittered, "I'm quite counting on it."

She frowned in confusion, but Cem continued the sordid tale, shooting a quelling look at the chiss clone. "The trail was stumbled across again when, twelve years ago, a devastatingly deadly explosion and fire destroyed an entire scientific complex on the Bothan colony world of Kothlis- a symbolic location, perhaps, given the world's proud Rebel history and its role in the downfall of the Second Death Star.

"It was not the first potential lead, but diligent work by Major Ra-ban and others on his team flagged the event and began accumulating and analyzing as much data as possible in the time it took to recall Thrawn from such remote and forsaken worlds as the one we are on right now," he coughed and Thrawn raised a blue-black brow smoothly but did not comment. "Of particular interest was the epicenter of the explosion and the death toll it wrought on one particular lab of the complex- as well as the fact that two charred bodies recovered after the fact were of the project director and an assistant engineer who were not supposed to be there at the time of the incident."

"And was the suspected culprit of the initial slicing among the dead?" Vulcor asked sharply.

Cem shrugged. "We don't think so; it is unlikely, in any event. As best as we've pieced together, the bothan who first took the notes- a Vren Uly'ran- passed them along to a rogue faction who continued to pursue the matter of _ar'krai_ against the Yuuzhan Vong long after peace was made with them and their living planet disappeared into the Unknown Regions. That leader disappeared within three months following the lab explosion, but as he was purportedly searching for Zonama Sekot at the time, none among the Bothan leadership could publicly acknowledge much about him. In all likelihood, Uly'ran was rewarded for his loyalty to the _ar'krai_ cause with a mysterious death as well. He would have known too much."

The frown on Vulcor's face was only deepening, and his consternation was rising considerably. "This sounds like an awful lot of guesswork to have determined much of anything at all," he remarked caustically. "Why would you think that lab had _any_ connection to Alpha Red?"

"Oh, there is no doubt of it _now_," Cem assured him. "But at the time… shipping manifests were sliced, revealing the use of some known but extremely rare substances- chemicals, microorganisms- which Nabrin was able to identify as key elements in the original form of Alpha Red. It was not the most definite of leads, but all that was available with which to work, at the time."

"But the lab was destroyed," Leyla prodded, "Even the overseers of the project were dead."

Thrawn nodded heavily. "This is, unfortunately, where we make the jump from discussing the possible genocide of a surrendered race to the potential genocide of several innocent ones. Further examination of the complex- an unfortunately lengthy process, due to the general secrecy of the whole laboratory- revealed the fact that one being had disappeared from Kothlis two months prior, one who worked in a neighboring facility to that which we suspected was manufacturing the Alpha Red."

"Who was it?" Leyla asked softly.

Cem nodded to the eickarie major, and the screen abruptly shifted. "One who had every reason to hate the Yuuzhan Vong," Cem murmured quietly. "But possibly just as much reason to hate the New Republic, the Chiss, the Empire, and…" he looked pointedly at Leyla, "the Jedi."

She swallowed and looked away from his hazel eyes to the screen, that was displaying limited biographical information about a Yanis Kloru. But she was stuck, staring wide-eyed, at the being before her, unable to even read the pertinent information. "An ithorian?"

"Ithor," Thrawn murmured. "The Alderaan of the Yuuzhan Vong war."

A hot flash of anger surged through Leyla. "You were an Admiral for the Empire that destroyed Alderaan, how can-"

"Alderaan was destroyed by an Emperor, not an Empire, Jedi Solo-Fel; it wasn't destroyed by the Imperial Navy and it _certainly_ wasn't destroyed by me. I suggest you remember that, in the future."

His words were sharp, yet not laced with malice, but Leyla still felt herself caught in the sheer authority of his manner, of his words- and she began to wonder vaguely how much of an affectation his coolly calculating mannerisms which she'd thus far witnessed were. And it occurred to her that this was one being she never wanted to cross.

Silence tinged with the slightest discomfort hung in the air, until Cem cleared his throat and continued. "Ithor," he nodded. "Targeted by the Yuuzhan Vong when it was discovered that a certain pollen reacted dangerously with most Yuuzhan Vong life forms; the site of the first major collaborative effort between the New Republic and the Emp- Imperial Remnant," he corrected drily, "as well as my father's forces from the Empire of the Hand. The battle was won- Ithor was lost. Jedi Knight Corran Horn dueled for the planet- and _won_," he conceded, "but made the miscalculation of assuming there was any honor to be found in the invaders. The planet was poisoned in retribution for his slight towards Domain Shai, and to ensure the destruction of the toxic substance. But the _true_ devastation," he closed his eyes, "was, perhaps, an avoidable mistake.

"I was there," he confessed. "And good intentions be damned… the fires that engulfed the planet were solely the fault of the commanders who failed to recognize the devastation that would occur when the destroyed worldship slid back into the atmosphere. The battle went to the defenders, in a purely technical sense… but the Yuuzhan Vong won much more that day. And one of their successes was the creation of Yanis Kloru."

X-X-X-X


	7. Chapter 6

**A/N: **I'm going to try to get into a more consistent updating habit with this story, every 2 or 3 days. I've been slacking and sporadic lately.

_**Summer314 – **_Hi again! Glad to hear you're a Thrawn fan, I'm something of an unabashed Thrawn fan myself. But I tried not to let that show…too much. ;-)

**Chapter 6**

_Wild Space – Planetoid 5249125_

The story of Yanis Kloru was confusing and laden with various gaps of knowledge, most notable of which was the period of time in which he too had disappeared from galactic record, reappearing some four years later under an assumed name and involving himself in local politics of the most populous planet of the Ithorian Remnant, Borao. And on Borao, he had risen slowly but steadily over the next six or seven years, until he had earned his highest promotion to date-

Yanis Kloru had been elected a senator of the GA two years prior, going by the pseudonym of Ryoqim, with a fabricated background and family history. And because of the devastation of the planet of Ithor… there was only so far one could go, even if deemed necessary, to look into such things. And the ithorians… they tended to be on the trusting side.

They also tended to be strictly peaceful beings, so the irony was not lost on Leyla and Vulcor.

And from inside the Alliance, he was apparently slowly tearing it apart, steadily, not acting rashly… to create, as Cem had said, chaos.

Leyla fought against the impending wave of incredulity as she tried to follow everything Cem was explaining to them. "So… he throws the whole system into disorder by orchestrating the departure of gradually more important systems from the Alliance- to the point that, lack of culpability aside, the backlash forces Ferrin Belotab to make the choice between stepping quietly aside or seeing the Senate dissolve into pointless argument regarding his removal. What happens then? Does he set himself up to be the next Chief of State?"

Cem shook his head. "Actually," he nodded towards the eickarie major, "the Senate has deliberated and made their choice- a Polla Essada of Gyndine was sworn in shortly before we returned."

"We suspect," Thrawn broke in smoothly before Leyla could continue, "that the senator has already attained as ambitious a position as his needs warrant. Just under a year ago, he was nominated to fill a vacant position in the Naval Oversight Committee."

She sighed. "So it wasn't about _who_ became the next Chief of State- just that the Alliance face the trauma of losing faith in its leader."

Her uncle nodded. "Again, a lot of this is conjecture, but… it seems likely that he concerned himself more with the military. One like Nek Bwua'tu would be difficult to manipulate- it took the mass murder of millions of bothans to get the Council to bend to demands- but Cha Niathal…" he shrugged wearily. "We have to operate under the assumption that Dac is among those threatened worlds, and that Admiral Niathal is compromised."

"And we can't just capture or kill the senator because…?" Vulcor let the question hang in the air.

"Because," Leyla murmured, "he clearly has assets in place, standing by, waiting to unleash these pathogens on unsuspecting worlds. Until we can both locate each and every such weapon _and_ locate whatever site he is using to store or manufacture them, the problem is, at best, left unsolved, at worst, turns into a galactic catastrophe."

"An accurate and to-the-point summation," Cem said.

The irritation that had remained poorly concealed in Vulcor was steadily growing into a hot anger as he did his own inner analysis of all the information which had been presented to them since they'd been picked up. "Let me see if I understand this," he said in a dangerously soft voice. "_You_," he glared daggers at Thrawn, "directed the development of a genocidal pathogen which _you_," he turned to the syndic, "altered against advisement and then _lost_. And now, nearly two decades later, four million have already lost their lives and, when it comes down to it, it's chiefly the fault of either- or both- of you, first and foremost?"

"Also an accurate and to-the-point summation," Thrawn conceded evenly. "We have not once denied responsibility for our failings." His glowing eyes slid from Vulcor to Leyla and back again. "And so knowing what it is that we face- will you join us?"

Vulcor shook his head slowly in disgust. "The toll Leyla's family has already paid on your behalf…" he murmured softly, almost inaudibly. "I am a Jedi Knight; as such, I have long striven to atone for any wrongs in my past. I serve the Force; I serve life; and I fight the ideals of fear, of tyranny." He sighed. "Yes, I will join you- you've given me little choice. But I do not do it for you, Syndic Nabrin, nor for you, _Crahsystor_ Thrawn."

"So noted," Thrawn returned lowly. "Jedi Solo-Fel?"

She bit her lip. That same oppressive sensation, that feeling of reaching a point of no return and preparing to cross it in one drastic bound, was weighing heavily on her mind. But Vulcor was right- even if not for Thrawn or Nabrin… even if not for Cem, her own family… they had an obligation to the people of the galaxy. And while there were still so many questions that needed answering- what, precisely, Cem and company had in mind for the two Jedi first and foremost- she knew that she could not back away now, knowing what she knew. Swallowing thickly, her voice emerged as little more than a whisper.

"I'm in."

X-X-X-X

As they were walking out of the conference room, Leyla sensed an approaching presence- a very _different _sort of presence than those around her: young, playful, Force-sensitive… and human. Every other being she could sense, save Vulcor and Cem, was either chiss or this strange new species, the eickarie. From what little she knew about the Empire of the Hand- in its former glory, at any rate, the Hand in which her stepfather had grown up- it had been comprised of many species, including the occasional human addition to their numbers. Perhaps it was so with this newly reformed body.

Or perhaps…

Leyla shook her head ruefully as a little boy, not much beyond two years of age, if that, came running around a corner. He slowed at the sight of them, eyeing Leyla and Vulcor with keen curiosity, but smiled beamingly up at Cem. Cem quirked a brow bemusedly down at the child.

"What have you been told about sneaking out of the nursery, Olyxes?"

At that moment, a young chiss girl appeared around the same corner, looking mildly harried- which, for a chiss, was probably the equivalent of full-blown panic- and then utterly mortified when she saw the party standing in the corridor. A faint flush of purple rising in her blue cheeks, she performed a half-bow and spoke to the floor. "My apologies, Syndic, _Crahsystor_," she murmured. "Come, Olly."

Shockingly green eyes glanced back towards the way in which he had come, and the boy slumped in defeat. "Don't like the nursery," he grumbled, but allowed the young chiss to take his hand. "Bye, Cem," he muttered.

Leyla saw the faint amusement in her uncle's eyes. "I'll see you in a couple hours, Olyxes," he promised the child, and then turned towards his caretaker. "Thank you, Malani." She inclined her head one more time and led the boy away.

When they were gone, Leyla allowed the soft chuckle to slip past her lips. "Zekk and Tahlia really _have_ been busy, haven't they?" Vulcor, Cem, and Nabrin all turned to her in surprise. Thrawn's eyes, however, held that same subdued and calculating amusement which Leyla had grown accustomed to seeing during their interactions. "Come now," she chided them drily, "did you truly think I hadn't guessed as soon as the shock of seeing Cem among you had worn off? The three of them worked together for months trying to hunt down the Syndic here," he nodded sardonically to Nabrin.

Thrawn nodded towards her in what might have been a gesture mixed with acknowledgement and respect. "You have a keen mind, Jedi Solo-Fel; come," he held out his hand and gestured her and Vulcor before him down the corridor, "let me show you just what your friends have accomplished, these few years among us…"

X-X-X-X

_Errant Venture_

A dark brow, laced with grey, rose curiously as the onetime smuggler observed his longtime acquaintance, casual rival, and reluctantly-considered friend. The other, older man's graying beard twitched, the only betrayal of his consternation at the studious silence. "It's hardly an exotic order," Booster finally stated calmly. "The Talon Karrde I once knew would already have talked his price up a thousand credits in the time you've just been staring at me."

Mask finally cracked, Karrde let out a soft snort. "The Talon Karrde you once knew would have not had to wonder what you needed X-wing spare parts for, Terrik."

"Yes, well, those extra thousand credits were always worth your discretion and keen ability of not asking questions, Karrde." He paused. "But if it is that much a bother in your old age, it will just have to wait until Mirax is returned from her own errands."

"Ah," Karrde sighed and leaned back in his chair, "Booster, Booster, Booster- since when do you imagine me to be the type to fall for such a shameless ploy?"

"Hardly a ploy," Booster countered drily. "You look tired, Karrde. Is life treating you harshly?"

A heavier sigh, more wearied, belied his words. "No more than usual. Nevertheless- your order will be no problem; I'll dole it out amongst several suppliers to hide the true numbers," Booster nodded approvingly, "but it should only take a week or so. I'll contact you for a drop-off rendezvous."

The frown on Booster's face deepened, though it was largely concealed by his beard and mustache. "All the times you've claimed you're retiring, Talon," he murmured, "in the end, you and I… we're much the same, aren't we?"

Karrde smiled wryly. "I don't know if I'd go _that_ far, Booster."

X-X-X-X

_Coruscant_

"Any word on Leyla?"

Jaina shook her head and shrugged listlessly. She was leaning against the kitchen counter while her mother poured drinks for the nine diners who were crowding into the Solos' apartment. Han was in and out of the kitchen, setting the table, but he paused the next time he came back in, regarding his daughter sympathetically and a bit curiously. "Jaina, sweetie- can I ask you something?"

"Yeah, dad."

She could tell that he chose his words carefully. "I'm not… questioning Soontir and Syal's competence in looking after Navi, by any means," he assured her. "But don't you think having him all the way out in Imperial space seems a little extreme? You know your mother and I would take him in a heartbeat, but you never asked and were so adamant on keeping him with you, so…"

Jaina gave him a semi-apologetic smile. "I do know that, dad. And that _would_ seem to make more sense, wouldn't it? What with Luke and Mara and Jacen being around too… but…" she trailed away and glanced down at her lap where her hands were twisting worriedly. "I can't explain it. I just have this idea that… Coruscant isn't the best place for him right now. It's not a sense of danger, it's just…" she shook her head and slumped down in her seat. "I don't know."

"How does Navi feel about going to Bastion?" Leia asked softly.

"Oh," Jaina answered drily, "he's thrilled. I think Jag's been working on him while I wasn't paying attention, he's totally into the whole _Empire_ thing."

"I'll have him in TIE simulators within the month," a new voice broke in, and Jaina turned to see Soontir smirking mischievously at Han, who mock-glowered back at his onetime rival at the Imperial Academy on Carida. "Leia, Jacen just commed and says he can make it tonight after all, if you can make room for him…"

Jaina brightened considerably. Jacen had been off-planet for much of the time since Kyp's wedding, and she'd worried that her and Jag would turn around and leave again before he made it back. "Of course," Leia was already pulling extra dishes and utensils from drawers and cupboards, "Ben too?"

"Just Jacen."

Twenty minutes later, Jaina found out why Ben was opting to spend the evening with his parents instead of joining his cousin for dinner at the Solos; the next day, Ben was accompanying Jaina, Jag, Kyp, and Gennevi to the _Errant Venture_ to fly with Jaina and Kyp's Jedi wing. Jaina suspected that Luke didn't mind too much, figuring that Ben would be more likely to be forthcoming regarding the secrecy of the project overall- but Jaina liked to think she knew her cousin better than that. If his close friendship with Leyla was anything to go by, he had just as much capability of being sneaky as any of them.

After they ate, sat around and talked, and Naviin finally succumbed to weariness that was part due to the late hour and part due to too much food, Jacen pulled Jaina aside as they exited the spare bedroom where they'd just tucked him in. He looked at her closely and pulled her into a gentle hug. "You doing okay?"

She frowned and glanced down. "I'm just not sure when Leyla got old enough that, not only can she run off without telling us where she's going, but I'm not allowed to go chasing after her when she does."

"Is she in trouble?"

"No!" Jaina huffed, "which is little consolation but I guess I'll take it."

"Vulcor will look after her."

It was quiet for a minute while she pondered her next words. "It's… that's not the point though. Everyone likes to point out the fact that when you and I were younger than she is, mom and dad rarely knew what we were up to. And that's true, even before the war we were always getting into trouble, so maybe I'm being hypocritical."

"But _during_ the war, you had very good reason to disappear," Jacen frowned. "Don't forget that."

"Which is why I'm annoyed, I guess," she shrugged. "What could Leyla possibly have to hide? It's not like we're at war here."

X-X-X-X

_Wild Space – Planetoid 5249125_

"Impressive, no?"

Leyla stared. On approach to the building- fairly small, separate from the highly secure facility where she and Vulcor had been initially briefed- she had realized that the abundant life she was sensing was not just that of the jungle-like ecosystem surrounding them. There were a number of sentient presences here as well, and they weren't just chiss- they were Force-sensitive. All of them.

And when they entered the structure, her eyes were drawn to a spot near the center of the room where three young chiss- two females and a male- were sitting cross-legged on the floor, levitating all manner of small objects before them; as she watched, one withdrew their control suddenly, forcing the other two to compensate, and then one of them pushed out and sent the objects towards the head of the first chiss, who was forced to catch them before they struck her face. Then the three resumed their collaborative effort, waiting for the next move to try to catch one off-guard.

Other older chiss were paired off around the room. They might have been meditating before the visitors arrived, Leyla wasn't sure, but they ranged in age from adolescent to adult. A transparisteel window on the far side of the open chamber showed a large sparring room beyond, in which two figures were circling one another, lightsabers of blue and orange held in defensive postures, waiting for the other to make the first attack.

"Is… is this all Zekk and Tahlia's doing?" Leyla asked after a moment of stunned pause.

"Your friends have not been idle," Thrawn acknowledged with a slow nod. "And there are more- the most talented of those trained are lying in wait on such worlds as Bothawui and Sullust… and Coruscant… waiting for a time they might be able to act in a coordinated effort to bring down our foe."

Vulcor turned to him sharply. "You've placed chiss Jedi on Coruscant?" Thrawn met his gaze coolly. "How do you expect them to remain hidden from all the _other_ Jedi there?"

"They have their ways." He barked a command in cheunh and one of the younger students stood hurriedly and jogged over. "Ritala- the special technique you've all been trained in- demonstrate it for our guests, if you please."

The young female nodded and murmured her assent- and then, much to Leyla and Vulcor's astonishment, her presence in the Force withdrew quickly and then disappeared altogether, leaving a sort of void where she was standing. "Wha- how?" Leyla asked stupidly.

Thrawn nodded to Ritala, and she bowed her head and dashed off again. Cem turned to Leyla and Vulcor and shrugged. "I guess Zekk and Tahlia picked the technique up in Dorin, shortly before they came to be out here. Obviously, I can't tell you much more than that, without truly understanding the Force to begin with."

For a long moment, Leyla stared around the room. In three years, Zekk and Tahlia had essentially begun their own Jedi order out here in the Unknown Regions. Truth be told, it was remarkably impressive.

X-X-X-X

They took two hours for Leyla and Vulcor to settle into the small quarters they were directed to in a third structure near the training center. At the end of those two hours, a tap on Leyla's door pulled her out of a semi-meditative state she had achieved while lying flat on her bed, trying to sort through the wealth of information that had been thrust upon her in the past several hours. Pulling her hair up, she opened the door and found Cem standing there, stiff and formal as ever, but looking slightly more relaxed than she'd yet seen him.

"Lunch is in a half hour," he informed her. "I thought you might like to accompany me to visit Olyxes before."

She nodded, pulled her brown robe on over the tan tunic she'd traded in her flightsuit for, and followed him down the corridor. When they stepped out into the humid air, Leyla looked around with more curiosity than before at the plant life, and listened to the faint sounds of native animals. "So what is this place?"

He glanced down at her and chuckled lowly. "Can you not guess?" She quirked a brow. "It's the place where Thrawn was exiled by the Ascendancy, more than fifty years ago now. Per their custom, it was removed from official star charts- thereby preventing someone, friend or family, from attempting to rescue him and smuggle him back into Ascendancy space. Consequently, there is little danger of the outpost being discovered; it never even made it into Imperial record- or if it did, Thrawn had it removed."

"And how long has this base been here?"

Cem tapped a command into a keypad when they reached the bunker, and heavy blast doors slid open to admit them. "I believe construction on it began a little more than a decade ago- this structure was already completed when I journeyed out here the first time some five years ago now- and the training area and dormitories have been more recent additions, of course, as need was warranted." They reached a turbolift and descended into the lower levels, carved out of the bedrock. "But this is very much a center for Command and Intelligence; the military forces are amassing elsewhere."

"And Zekk and Tahlia?"

He hesitated. "They… were picked up in much the same manner as you and Jedi Vulcor."

When he offered no more, Leyla stopped walking and turned to look at him, meeting his hazel eyes seriously. "And where does Talon Karrde fit into all of this?"

Cem blinked twice. "How do you…?"

"_Manufacturer's override_?" she deadpanned. "That droid came from Luke and Mara, and I'll bet anything Mara got it from Karrde or one of his close affiliates. And from everything you've said so far about how you've anticipated this Senator Ryoqim… you're using Ghent to hack into GA encrypts that he wrote himself, aren't you?" Cem said nothing. "That's high treason, if Ghent is caught," she commented mildly.

Her uncle exhaled heavily and shook his head. "You're a little too good at this. Yes, Ghent is violating every unwritten principle that a slicer with any honor has by using his knowledge of codes he wrote against the government that commissioned him to write them. Karrde is… doing what Karrde has always done best, and that is assimilating data and passing it on to us when he determines its relevance. I know very little of how he came into such a role; Thrawn has never volunteered the information."

She considered him a moment. "Why the anonymity, when it comes to Thrawn? And why the informality? It seems… inconsistent."

He let out a mirthless laugh. "You ask me to delve into the mind of such a being, Leyla?"

"Take a shot."

"Hm," he pondered a moment. "My best guess- this place for him, this nameless world- it is symbolic, is more than just a conveniently isolated location. It represents the anonymity that came with his exile, with the stripping of his family name, with the stripping of his rank. The first time though was of his design; to best protect his people, he sacrificed his own standing among them, knowing that he was turning in one rank to gain another. This time though- in his mind, it is not design that led him back here, it is true failure. And when we succeed in securing the galaxy from this threat, Thrawn- and Nabrin- cannot take credit for fixing a mess of their own making.

"There is also the simple fact," he added after a moment of consideration, "that he is _not_ the same being my father served under. He may carry his memories and be genetically identical, but history has oft-enough demonstrated that no clone is precisely the same as its template. I never knew the grand admiral, was just a boy of five when he died; perhaps my father would pick up on some of the nuances that define or set apart this Thrawn from his template, should they ever cross paths."

X-X-X-X


	8. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

_Errant Venture_

Mirax Terrik Horn gave her father a kiss on the cheek- Syal Antilles followed suit- and they walked around the body of the sizeable cargo hauler to where the cargo bay was already open. A heavy-duty magnetic lift was in the process of attaching at key points to the first of seven X-wing fighters and prepared to move it to one of the maintenance pads that had already been set up in one of the lowest hangar decks of the ship, one that had not been used for any real purpose in years.

"You've gotten a lot done," Mirax nodded approvingly as she surveyed the maintenance hangar. "Not a bad showing, for an old man like yourself."

Booster frowned down at his daughter. "I'll have a suitably appropriate retort for you after I take my mid-afternoon nap," he teased. "And how are you, Lieutenant Antilles?" he smiled beamingly at the blonde woman. "Got things squared away with your squadron?"

"Yes, I do, Mister T," she winked at him. "As it turns out, folding the Fifth Fleet worked in my favor- with all the extra pilots being shuffled around, they were doing a lot of unscheduled rotations, giving people training assignments to relax on solid ground again, that sort of thing. The admiral just… tweaked my datafiles a bit. I can be gone three months easy before anyone really notices, maybe even up to six."

He shook his head and chuckled. "An Antilles and a Fel flying together again. Though I think last time, the seniority was the other way around."

"I figure I can jockey for the two-flight lead position," she grinned. 

"We can fight for it."

The three of them turned to see Jysella Horn, helmet tucked under one arm, strolling into the hangar. She came to stand between her mother and grandfather, smirking challengingly at her longtime friend. Booster put an arm around his granddaughter, but shook his head mournfully at Mirax. "Both you and Wedge have _daughters_ who are flying now. I _am _getting old."

X-X-X-X

_Wild Space – Planetoid 5249125_

"Olly seems very taken with you," Leyla finally remarked one night, about a week after her arrival on the muggy planet.

Cem gave a half-shrug as best he could while he carried the sleeping boy over to his crib and carefully laid him down. Leyla tossed him a forgotten stuffed animal and he tucked it in the crook of one of Olyxes's elbows; the toddler drew his arm unconsciously around it while his other hand crept up to his face and he stuck his thumb in his mouth. "I try to see him as much as possible when his parents are forced away. And should something happen to them… they've entrusted me to see to his future welfare."

Her brow rose in mild surprise. "Would you adopt him?"

Her uncle shook his head. "That would be… hardly desirable. My foreseeable future is out here, in the shadows, and they don't truly want their son raised in such a life. No, one way or another, they want Olyxes returned to GA space when it is safe for him. If something were to happen to Zekk and Tahlia, it was actually recommended that I speak with your grandmother regarding finding him suitable guardianship until he is of age to take up fulltime Jedi training."

A morbid part in the back of Leyla's mind wondered whether her mother and stepfather had this conversation more than eighteen years ago when they were leaving her in the care of Kam and Tionne so they could rejoin the fight against the Yuuzhan Vong. And just like little Olly, Leyla had been known to only a very few people, and she supposed it would have fallen to her uncle Luke to reveal the true story of her existence if necessary.

"That makes sense," she shook away those thoughts and smiled lightly back up at Cem as he took up a chair across from her own. They were sitting in the nursery where, Leyla had learned in the past several days, Olyxes stayed under the supervision of Malani or Tawina, two young chiss girls whose parents were among the auxiliary support crew on the base. Otherwise, Zekk and Tahlia kept quarters in the same dorm-style building where Leyla and Vulcor had been billeted.

As though reading her thoughts, Cem changed the subject abruptly. "How fares Jedi Vulcor?"

Her answering laugh was wholly mirthless. "Just as… perturbed… as before. He's been working with the Jedi- or whatever you're calling them- and learning the fading technique they use to hide."

"Have you learned it?"

"Working on it," she nodded. "In theory, I get it, I just don't want to…" she flushed and looked down. "I don't want to freak out my family by suddenly disappearing in the Force. Zekk or Tahlia could probably teach me to do it more smoothly so it isn't as abrupt as Vulcor's attempts have been- and that's alarming even when I'm sitting there watching him as he does it."

A new voice called out softly. "I can teach you better."

They turned and Leyla chuckled as she stood. "Obviously," she drawled, "I had no clue you were coming."

"Didn't want to wake the little tyke." Zekk came fully into the room, Tahlia close behind, and she spared a quick acknowledging smile for Leyla and Cem before making her way purposefully towards the crib where Olly was sleeping. "Or," Zekk allowed ruefully, "his mother will wake him up anyway."

Tahlia was already drawing him out of the crib, carefully lifting him so as not to jostle him too much. She kissed his dark head and took a seat on a sofa on the far side of the room, holding her son close to her while he unconsciously burrowed against her.

"What news?" Cem murmured quietly to the younger man as Zekk rubbed tiredly at his eyes. "Anything… useful?"

He nodded slowly and lowered himself into Cem's abandoned chair. "Maybe; hopefully. Karrde was skeptical, but… I think we might have something."

"Is time a factor?"

A half-hearted shrug answered him. "No more than usual. It can wait until morning. Though… it looks as though the senator is taking things a step further than we anticipated, with Bothawui and Sullust especially." Cem's brows rose curiously. "That'll wait too, but it does up the ante a bit in terms of potential… loss-gain scenarios."

Cem nodded. "Understood; oh-seven-hundred then. Leyla?"

"I'll be there."

"Bring Jedi Vulcor as well."

Tahlia's head shot up. "Vulcor? He's here too?"

Leyla looked at her uncle as he considered his response. "It was… unavoidable to make contact with both. Though he was a… less willing addition to our team."

As Leyla went to bed that night, after parting ways with Cem and strolling with Tahlia and Zekk, who was holding Olyxes, across the damp earth through muggy air to the Jedi dormitories, she pondered Cem's response to that question, and pondered her brief and cryptic conversation with Thrawn on the bridge of the _Dawn's Folly_ just prior to their emersion from hyperspace.

X-X-X-X

"The senator," Zekk began in a low tone, "has finally risked something we never thought he would- he has revealed his duplicity openly to another. This puts him in a remarkably precarious position because, should Admiral Niathal choose to unmask him and- to her knowledge- potentially sacrifice billions of lives, he will be forced to run."

Thrawn's red eyes flickered. "Do we assume that survival is one of his primary goals, Master Zekk?"

Zekk shrugged uneasily. "No, and it probably isn't. But if Niathal were to contact someone she absolutely trusted wasn't corrupted by him and he was arrested… even if several of the pathogens _were_ successfully released, without the head of the operation, it would likely fall apart."

"But we would still be left without knowledge of his base of operations," Tahlia added quietly, sitting by Zekk's side. "This scenario is, therefore, undesirable."

Nodding, Zekk continued. "Scenario number two in which Niathal reveals him- he runs, we have someone in place who can successfully follow him and, hopefully, learn the location of his base where he keeps these pathogens."

Again, Tahlia made an addendum. "But in _this_ scenario, we are left without knowledge of which planets he is already holding hostage, and would be forced to trust that those who have been blackmailed would come forth before the virus is released. That is unlikely at best, probably impossible, and leaves far too much to chance based upon tailing Ryoqim successfully to his hideout- _if_ he even traveled there directly."

"There's also the scenario in which Niathal mistakenly reveals him to another who is blackmailed by our tricky friend and the people of Mon Calamari die without ever knowing how or why."

Cem looked between the two newly arrived Jedi, eyes not betraying the sleeplessness Leyla knew he had to be feeling based on her own restless night. "So your conclusion is, therefore, that it is _not_ in the galactic interest for Cha Niathal to unveil just what Senator Ryoqim is- to anyone."

"You got it."

"Your report has me just brimming with confidence."

Zekk smiled sardonically. "We're not done. Tahlia?"

The auburn-haired woman reached into a satchel and produced a small mechanical device. "Senator Ryoqim has always been very careful," she directed towards Leyla and Vulcor. "We've had a form of listening device in his office since he was elected- before he even set foot in the office- that carries a special sensor. It can preempt detection technology by picking up on the first signal wave and shutting down; unfortunately, it defaults to restart back to standby in a standard hour, at which point there's little of interest going on anymore. With Niathal though… perhaps the excitement of the encounter made him forgetful…"

Setting it in the middle of the small conference table around which Zekk, Cem, Thrawn, Nabrin, Leyla, and Vulcor were also sitting, she pressed a button in the center. Two low voices spoke back and forth, neither of them human:

"_I'm quite a fan of yours, Admiral Niathal. I was there when the former Supreme Commander Bwua'tu recommended Admiral Darklighter for the job, but I was most relieved when they chose you for it instead."_

"_I think you do Admiral Darklighter a disservice in your opinion. He is a commendable leader."_

"_Oh, I quite agree. An admirable officer." _

"_Then why are you so against him advancing to the role of Supreme Commander?" _

"_Because, Admiral- it saves me the rather tedious and time-consuming task of finding a way to have him killed."_

There was a very long pause in the recording before Niathal's rumbling tones spoke again, betraying a mild quaver. _"He was in that meeting as well; you could have gotten to Gavin just as easily as you've lured me."_

"_Ah, I do not want you dead, Admiral. Quite the contrary. You are going to be a great help to me." _

"_And if I'm not?" _

"_Then the blood of the billions who die on Falleen, on Rodia… on Sullust, Bothawui… and yes, on Dac… that blood will be on your hands, Admiral. All it will take is the push of a button."_

Tahlia stopped the recording. "There's more, but we think- we hope- that Ryoqim's last words there are more relevant than Karrde suspected."

Thrawn rubbed his chin thoughtfully as he considered her with piercing eyes. "_The push of a button_," he murmured. "You suspect he has a means of triggering his weapons remotely? Something he carries with him?"

Tahlia didn't quite meet his gaze as she responded; Leyla filed her sudden discomfiture away for future consideration. "Something in his office, more likely. No device the size of a comlink- and it could be no bigger if he desired to avert attention- would have the strength to emit a signal across light years. But something wired through a comm console, perhaps, could send out a pulse through the HoloNet, something simple that would go unnoticed, and could signal to his cohorts without requiring him to confer with them directly."

Cem nodded, a sudden brightness in his eyes. "So- if we could get into his office and trace the device, assuming it is there…"

"In theory," Zekk murmured, "we could learn every world he currently holds hostage; and could, in turn, establish teams to both neutralize the atmospheric effects of Alpha Red and, hopefully, locate the one who carries the weapon and disable it."

Vulcor glanced between the other two men. "Do we even know what delivery method he's using?"

Zekk and Tahlia both grimaced and exchanged a look. "We recovered the device on Torolis. A canister on a timed release mechanism; the syndic has been studying it for any potential weaknesses in the delivery system."

"So," Leyla concluded, "we need to find an optimal time to get someone into his office- someone who knows their way around hypercomm technology, no less- when there is plenty of time in which we know they won't be interrupted?"

"In essence," Zekk replied carefully, "that is how things look to _us_," he nodded towards Tahlia. "It gets slightly more complicated when you factor in the time it will take to locate and neutralize the pathogens…"

"And it _also_," Tahlia added, "doesn't solve the problem of locating his base. But it is a start and one that, hopefully, won't condemn the worlds that are already held hostage to mass catastrophe."

Cem nodded heavily. "And you mentioned Bothawui and Sullust last night…?"

"Ah," the younger man said drily, "you'll like this. Supplanting the Chief of State wasn't enough; he wants _more_ chaos. And he's going to use the Defense Force to create it this time."

"Thus his engagement of Admiral Niathal," Thrawn surmised.

"Indeed- he's… well… brewing up a conflict between a 'confederation' of seceded systems and the GA Defense Force. We haven't quite determined how he'll do it, but the seeds of suspicion are already being planted."

Cem sucked in a breath. "That would be an ugly conflict."

"At best," Tahlia nodded slowly. "With the materiel capabilities between the two of them…"

Leyla frowned. "They'd be crushed, wouldn't they?"

"Don't forget though," Zekk warned her, "Niathal calling the shots means that Ryoqim is calling the shots. For both sides. If he wants to orchestrate a scenario of maximum damage for both the GA and this confederation he's forming, I've little doubt that he'll take the time to do it carefully, if no one comes up with a way to prevent him."

Thrawn's glowing eyes narrowed methodically from across the table. "That is, unfortunately, not our primary concern. The civilian casualties that will be sustained in the event of another outbreak of Alpha Red must come before the military casualties that will be sustained by the conflict between the Galactic Alliance and the confederation."

When he spoke, Leyla could read the reluctant concurrence in Cem's voice. "It is true; we must reserve our own forces for another day. For now then- I want to spend the next week coming up with a plan; getting onto Coruscant, getting into Ryoqim's office. How do we do it, who does it, how do we ensure they go undetected? No suggestion is to be withheld, no matter how seemingly absurd."

X-X-X-X

_Bastion_

The Galactic Alliance Third Fleet- ever on schedule, as befit a proper Imperial commander such as Admiral Reige- sat a dozen light years off of Garqi for scheduled maintenance. With more than seventy-five percent of the crew coming from the so-called Imperial Remnant, it remained, by far, the least affected fleet during the shakeup of recent weeks caused by the sudden forced resignation of Nek Bwua'tu and Traest Kre'fey. And with its proximity to the Imperial Remnant during its week-long stop, it was an ideal time for pilots, crewers, and staff to take their due leaves to visit their homes and families.

And leaving the fleet in the capable hands of his flagship captain, Admiral Reige was among those making the journey back to Bastion, the Imperial capital, though he perhaps traveled more discreetly than the average Defense Fleet officer. And mirroring his arrival an hour earlier was Imperial Home Fleet commander, Admiral Tal Nhylatich, who was waiting with Gilad Pellaeon upon Reige's arrival in his private suite.

Easily- and by far- the youngest of the three, Reige paced the room slowly, hands clasped behind his back, head bowed in thought, while Nhylatich filled him in on some of the finer points of the military and political standing within the Remnant, items that were too sensitive to be included on the official reports- such as which moffs were making power plays this particular month. It was the last item he reported, however, which intrigued Reige most, despite its remarkably unofficial and innocuous nature.

"Soontir Fel is returning to Bastion."

Reige's brow furrowed slightly. "With his wife?"

"Hm," Nhylatich inclined his head. "More interesting than that- with his grandson as well."

Seated opposite Nhylatich, Pellaeon leaned back and studied his young successor and the other admiral. "His parents?"

Nhylatich shrugged. "Soontir was not forthcoming with that information. I have it on decent authority that they have departed Coruscant, around the same time as Soontir and his wife. They do not seem to have returned to Ossus."

"And the Skywalkers on Coruscant," Reige murmured, finally sinking into a chair and half-closing his eyes. "The Jedi are mobilizing- damage control."

"Jagged Fel is no Jedi," Pellaeon remarked calmly.

"No, but he flies like one." He shot a look at Nhylatich. "As does Durron's new wife, Lassiter. Do they remain on Coruscant?"

"I am unaware either way."

Pellaeon raised a brow curiously. "What are you thinking, Vitor?"

Reige was silent for a long while as he tried to make sense of the pieces, fit them together into a discernible final hologram. "I'm wondering," he finally confessed slowly, "just how far the wariness of the situation in the Alliance has spread. And if the Jedi- acting unofficially, to be sure- are preparing themselves… will that conflict with what looks with increasing certainty to be _my_ next assignment?"

The look on his mentor's face was earnest, his eyes shining brightly in his wizened face. "Bothan Space?"

He nodded, smiling grimly. "My very own Rebellion to crush."

"You know what you must do, Vitor."

"I know my duty, Admiral."

X-X

When Admiral Nhylatich was summoned away, Pellaeon spoke lowly and quickly to Reige, voice heavy with caution. "You know why Cha has designated this to be _your_ task, do you not, Vitor?"

"I lack personal connection to Bwua'tu or Kre'fey, unlike Darklighter; Ratobo is too green, Klauskin too indecisive. But most importantly," Reige acknowledged quietly, "the Imperial psyche that cannot stomach the idea of open revolt, of rebellion."

"She trusts you to act with a sure and swift hand against those who would threaten the balance of power in the galaxy- who would threaten the comfortable monopoly on military force enjoyed by the Galactic Alliance in the region."

Reige well understood the implications and psychological undertones of Admiral Niathal's determination that his Third Fleet take care of the fledgling confederation's increasingly bold military maneuvers; he'd reflected on them for much of his journey to Bastion. Something else bothered him though, something deep in his brain, and his perplexity was visible on his face until Pellaeon urged him to have out with it. "Does it not strike you odd, sir," he mulled thoughtfully, "that with any number of Solos and Skywalkers on Coruscant, Jagged and Jaina Fel would send their son to Bastion for safekeeping?"

"It strikes me quite odd indeed- what do you make of it?"

He pulled a deep breath. "What I make of it… is that two people who have every right to be concerned for their children's safety, after what happened to the girl… currently view the Empire as more assuredly safe than Coruscant; possibly even safer than Ossus."

"A fair read," Pellaeon surmised as he stood slowly. "I wonder if they would feel the same, knowing of our present guests. The delegation awaits your meeting in an hour," he warned with a glance at his chrono.

"And does Tal…?"

The older man shook his head. "For the time being, it seems prudent to distance the delegation from connection to Soontir Fel; after all, it was not with fond farewells that he parted ways with the Ascendancy."

X-X-X-X


	9. Chapter 8

**A/N: **_**Summer314 - **__And with the Ascendancy in Bastion, things are going to get even more interesting_

**That they shall- and that's a promise. 0;-) **

_Why did Cem assigned himself the planning of getting into Ryoqim's office?_

**Oh, he wasn't assigning it to anyone in particular, just addressing the dilemma to the whole room. For now though, let's just say that Thrawn's attention is a bit divided… breaking into a Senate office is probably too small-time for him anyway. :-D **

**Chapter 8**

_Errant Venture_

"You getting a little old for this, Master Horn?" He shot Jaina a quelling look, and she grinned, that infamous Solo smirk. On Jaina's other side stood Kyp Durron, and the three of them quietly surveyed the collection of Jedi they'd rounded up on such quick notice and gotten to the _Errant Venture_. Two levels above them, Jag and Gennevi were having a similar introductory meeting with their pilots who had mostly been suggested by Darklighter and later approved by Gennevi. "Not a bad group," she finally decided.

Ben Skywalker and his two friends from his earliest days at the Jedi academy, Battek and Tivan, a twi'lek and bothan, were the youngest of those gathered. Jaina forced aside the bitter thought that Leyla should have been here with them and turned her attention from her young cousin to Corran's son Valin and his friends Bazel Warv, Yaqeel Saav'etu, and Natua Wan, a romoan, bothan, and falleen respectively. Valin's younger sister Jysella, though a Jedi, was to fly with Jag's squadron and alongside her lifelong friend Syal Antilles.

Rounding out their numbers were a third Jedi Master, Octa Ramis, her former apprentice Seha Dorvald, and a second falleen Jedi named Thann Mithric. Thirteen Jedi in total- a full squadron, plus one in reserve or, more likely, Corran would focus on training and tactics and leave the actual flying to those younger than he.

The strange- yet beneficial- aspect of basing operations out of the _Errant Venture_ was that there was plenty of available space. The two squadrons in the lower decks were well aware of one another's existence, but remained isolated for training purposes, though they shared a single deck for quarters and dining facilities. More importantly though, their decks were effectively cut off from the public areas of Booster Terrik's mobile shadow-port. And with their arrivals staggered, and materiel delivered in several small cargo shipments- nothing unusual for Terrik's normal operations- their presences in the bright red Star Destroyer were unknown to the oblivious patrons above.

Of course, that could all change in an instant if they were forced to launch on a moment's notice. Could make things interesting, anyway.

Jaina sensed a new presence, and half-turned to see Wedge Antilles approaching, expression serious and a bit bemused. He came quietly to stand on Corran's other side and murmured quietly, "Corran, Jaina- can you spare a minute?"

Before she could even answer, Kyp was already moving forward to get the attention of their new squadron members, giving Jaina and Corran an opening to leave quietly with Wedge while Kyp ran through the basics of what they hoped to accomplish in the coming weeks.

They followed Wedge up to the middle level, what Jaina liked to think of as the neutral ground between the two squadrons. He led them into a small lounge where Iella was already sitting with Gennevi and Jag in old but comfortable looking squashy chairs. The three newcomers took up seats and Wedge leaned forward to meet Gennevi's icy blue eyes intently. "Gennevi, when Gavin came to you on Coruscant and asked you to undertake this project, what did he tell you about Nek Bwua'tu?"

Confused glances were exchanged around the table. Gennevi blinked a couple of times, but responded haltingly. "He, ah- he said that Admiral Bwua'tu had approached him immediately after being relieved of his duties as Supreme Commander. That he gave cryptic warnings with no detail, but advised him to be prepared… for anything. Can I ask why, General?" Wedge's lips quirked and she flushed faintly. "Old habits die hard… Wedge."

"Tensions are rising quickly and aggressively between the Bothan Sector and the Alliance," Wedge said bluntly. "The Bothans appear to be heading a campaign- led by Bwua'tu- to pull other recently seceded systems into a military collective, and they aren't being subtle about it. Meanwhile, half of the NOC back on Coruscant is calling Bwua'tu treasonous and insisting the GA Defense Force strike preemptively against the military force of the fledgling confederation."

Jaina scowled. "That doesn't make any sense."

"Sure it does," Corran looked at her in surprise. "Bwua'tu knows more about the way the Fleet works than anyone would want in a potential future enemy."

"No," she returned irritably, "I know _that_ makes sense. But why would Bwua'tu give Admiral Darklighter a heads-up… even a vague one… if he was turning around and planning on provoking the Defense Force like that? He has to know better than anyone, like Master Horn said, the limits to which the Alliance would tolerate this move."

Her husband met her gaze from across the room and considered. "Perhaps he faces pressure from the Bothan Council."

"No," Wedge murmured darkly. "There's more than that. Bwua'tu is honorable and I strongly believe that he _would_ view what he is doing as treason- and would exile himself from the bothan people before committing himself as a traitor. He went against them in the matter of _ar'krai_ years ago, put the Alliance ahead of the Bothan Council. And if he accepted leadership of this coalition that's forming… I suspect he did so in the interests of curtailing the potential damage, not to cause more of it."

Gennevi swallowed thickly and nervously licked her lips, glancing around the room. "Then you think he anticipated the possibility of conflict between the Alliance and those recently departed systems?"

"Anticipated it," Wedge nodded, "and hoped to either stop it or at least position himself to do all he could to minimize the consequences of what he viewed as an inevitability."

Jaina locked eyes with Jag for several seconds, and then shifted her gaze to Gennevi who nodded slowly, reading the determination in her eyes. "Then let's meet him halfway," she said slowly.

Corran frowned lightly. "How so?"

"Bwua'tu's done all he can. He tried to warn Admiral Darklighter, he's taken control of a project that is costing him his sense of honor and respect, is causing others to brand him a traitor to the Alliance he swore to protect, whose ideals he swore to uphold. Bwua'tu's done all he can," Jaina repeated, looking around at them all, "so let's meet him halfway. Let's put a stop to it."

An incredulous silence was her answer. Finally, Iella, otherwise silent through the exchange, spoke up hesitantly. "You want to stop the escalation of a potential war with… twenty-four snubfighters?"

A sly smile touched her lips. "Wedge, Corran, myself… Jag, Jysella, Valin, Syal, Ben- we have enough Rogue blood here to accomplish the impossible, don't you think?"

X-X-X-X

_Wild Space – Planetoid 5249125_

Soft brown eyes met piercing green calculatingly; she balanced on the balls of her feet, ready to move, anticipating his next strike, forcing out the stinging pain of his last surgical hit against her left forearm, taking advantage of her weaker side. A sudden move made her go left, protecting her stinging arm- her quarry responded with a feint and all too easy tap of his practice saber against her right thigh.

Cursing, Leyla backed away and deactivated her own unfamiliar practice blade- low powered, ideal for training, especially between opponents of varying skill who were not used to sparring together. Raising a hand for a brief respite, Zekk nodded and switched off his own weapon before digging in a pocket of his tunic and tossing her a canister of burn salve. "Didn't get you too bad, did I?"

"No," she grumbled through gritted teeth. The pain lessened considerably as she applied the cooling mist, but her grey jumpsuit was charred in enough places now from numerous practice duels that it was now only practical for training purposes. In her defense, she was now getting hit less frequently, but she struggled to be competitive against Zekk and Tahlia with their substantial practice at closing themselves away from the Force, making it remarkably difficult to anticipate their next moves.

Zekk sank down beside her on the tall grass; Leyla preferred sparring away from the cold and sterile environment of the training center, it kept things more interesting in her opinion. On the other hand, it tended to draw the attention of any passing chiss and eickarie, so they'd taken to retreating some distance into the nearby wooded area. This added a new range of considerations from obstacles to wildlife, but they had yet to encounter anything deadly or aggressive- and Thrawn had assured them that there was little to be concerned about and, if anyone would know, she supposed it was him.

"You're still using your head too much," Zekk commented idly as he swept dark hair from his eyes. Leyla wiped her face with her charred sleeve, and reached back to pull her hair into a long braid and get it off of her hot and sweaty neck. "When you can't sense my attack, it makes you defensive and you think instead of react. Relax and trust in your instincts, in your reflexes." He paused. "But you are improving at hiding your own presence in the Force consistently through our duels."

Well that was something anyway. "The students here are very impressive," Leyla remarked as she worked out a sore shoulder. "You've done a remarkable thing in just a short time out here."

"Well- we weren't exactly starting from scratch." Her brows rose in surprise. Zekk shrugged. "Most of the Jedi trainees you've met were already here before Tahlia and I were, ah… recruited." His tone was dry and sardonic. "They lacked formal training, of course, but were able to develop some rudimentary abilities on their own."

She frowned heavily. "How were they identified?"

"Probably in much the same way your uncle started hunting down students when he first established his academy." Zekk's tone was apathetic. "Some beings just… manifest their abilities outwardly without knowing that they are Force-sensitive. Chiss are no different." Heaving an exhausted sigh, he rose to his full and impressive height, and held out a hand to help her to her feet. "Want to go again?"

Unsatisfied with his answer to her last question, Leyla muttered a vague assent and did what she found herself forced to do all too often here on this unnamed planet- filed the topic away for future consideration. Switching gears abruptly, she grinned mischievously at Zekk and quirked a brow. "Is it true that you and my mother were once, ah… _involved_?"

He let out a bark of laughter as he activated his practice saber; Leyla followed suit. "I don't know that _involved_ is the right word," he spoke mildly even as he began circling her like a predator closing in on its prey. "Jaina… she saved me, you know? I was a scared kid with nothing, easily manipulated and twisted, and she… cared enough to help me back." He lunged in, actions utterly belying his reminiscent and reflective words; Leyla grinned and countered his strike easily, and he backed away to reassess his attack strategy. "We'd known one another so long, and then after that I owed her so much. And yes, there was a time, while she was still at the academy on Yavin, when we shared a mutual, ah… infatuation, I believe." He easily blocked her blow and she narrowly missed another singe before retreating to a comfortable distance.

"So what happened?"

"War," he answered bluntly. "We were sixteen and eighteen… still children, really… and the galaxy was suddenly torn apart. And we went our separate ways in the effort against the Vong and… that was it." He was deeply reflective for a minute, and Leyla relaxed her guard, sensing a brief break in their sparring. "In retrospect, maybe it didn't _have_ to be it; if I'd been brave enough to stick with her when she was skirting the edge, after Anakin died." Leyla blinked in surprise- this was not a topic that she'd often heard her mother speak of. "But I knew that if she couldn't find her way back, I wouldn't have the strength to stand against her as she did to me." He smiled ruefully. "But someone _did_ coax her back, and if Force-blind space-jockey Jagged Fel could do it, then they were always meant to be together."

She smiled broadly, but her brow furrowed and she switched her weapon off again, frowning lightly at the Jedi before her. "She's worried about you," Her voice was just shy of accusing. "She wondered for a long time why you wouldn't come back, and she started to worry that you'd done something and _couldn't_ come back." Zekk's jaw twitched and he crossed his arms over his chest. "She never stopped caring, you know."

After a moment of terse silence, he motioned her to start heading back towards the encampment. She fell into step beside him and they walked slowly, picking an instinctive path through the thick undergrowth of the thickly wooded area. His careful consideration of his words was easily sensed until he regained the presence of mind to resume pulling his emotions back. When he spoke, he did not face her, but talked quietly and to the ground, hands clasped behind his back. "Listen to me very carefully, Leyla," he said in quiet earnestness. "Tahlia and I… we sometimes cannot afford to think like Jedi; cannot afford to _act_ like Jedi. Four million bothans are dead on Torolis because we did not act to save them- _purposefully_."

There was nothing for her to say to that; in truth, it weighed on her frequently, though she understood the precarious position they were all in.

"But Leyla," his hand on her shoulder stopped her, and she turned to face him, eyes wide, "you are _not_ to betray who you are, do you understand me? Tahlia and I have known for more than three years now that we have a task and that, sometimes, the ends will have to justify the means. We've come to terms with that, just as we've been forced to come to terms with demons in our pasts. But that is _our_ burden- not yours, and not Vulcor's. Even his history is far more innocent than Tahlia's."

Her mouth was suddenly very dry, even in this humid climate. "Zekk," her voice was barely above a whisper, "why am I here?"

"What did Cem tell you?" he asked evenly, tone betraying nothing.

She huffed in frustration. "That I have a duty as a _Fel_. That's nothing to do with it, is it?"

Again, she got the distinct sense that he chose his words extremely carefully. "It is… part of it."

"But it's more about me being a Solo and a Skywalker, isn't it?" she pressed.

"What you have to understand…" he continued walking again and she followed. "We're coming down to it now, Leyla. We've known that since Ryoqim blackmailed Sullust. He has one wish: to see the Alliance that triumphed out of a war that devastated his people sent into chaos, see its citizens face the same horror and helplessness that his people suffered when they saw Ithor destroyed, when some died with it. We have to put a stop to this soon, and we will inevitably be revealed in the process and… we lack legitimacy." He smiled at her confusion. "Our three primary leaders: a clone of a feared Imperial admiral; a shadow son of whom the galaxy has no knowledge; a traitorous syndic who would be executed if the Ascendancy ever got its hands on him. Then you have me and Tahlia- two renegade Jedi who, by your own admission, are stirring fears that we've succumbed to the dark side."

"Then why Cem?"

Zekk chuckled mirthlessly. "I've always suspected that Thrawn shares only a fraction of his reasoning for _anything_ with the rest of us. I have no good answer for you. Part of it, to be sure, was need of a commander he can trust but whose disappearance would not stir up any large measure of galactic controversy. And yes," he acknowledged wearily, "I know your family paid the price."

"Is that why you are so concerned for me?"

"I just don't want to see you sacrifice your peace of mind, your conscience, on behalf of Thrawn; I don't particularly want to see you do it for Cem, either."

The question that had been bothering her for several days now finally slipped past her lips. "Do you trust him? Thrawn, I mean."

He exhaled heavily and stopped walking again. They were in sight of the small base but hovered some ten meters back in the trees. "It is… not a matter of trust, per se. We have the same goal, I know that he is committed to success. It's more a question of...vision. Thrawn's mind operates on a bewildering scale, his moral compass attuned in a wholly unique way and, within those considerations- galactic wellbeing before any single individual- one could justify nearly _anything _as the right thing to do. And that is a slippery slope to tread.

"Even beyond that, he is crafty, he sees everything; he's persuasive and manipulative in his own way, and you must _always _be on your guard around him. He can read more in your outward appearance than any Jedi can with the Force. It's unnerving."

"Is that why Tahlia is so uncomfortable around him?"

"I notice Vulcor avoids him at all costs as well." Leyla shook her head, not comprehending the relevance to the observation. "Come," Zekk steered her around, "it's getting late. We have a meeting in a half hour."

X-X-X-X


	10. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

_Errant Venture_

Forced restraint kept Jagged Fel from starting when a pair of hands came to rest on his shoulders. An unwilling smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, but he maintained a determinedly steady pace as he finished resorting and reanalyzing his pilots and their wing pairings before keying off his datapad and tucking it into the breast pocket of his flightsuit. "Yes?" he finally asked mildly.

"Iella just got a message," Jaina informed him as she came around and perched on the edge of the table where he sat working. "Your parents and Navi have arrived safely on Bastion. We can contact them at Wyn's place sometime tonight."

The smile won, and Jag pushed his chair back slightly from the table so he could wrap his arms around his wife's waist and pull her down into his lap. She rested her head against his shoulder contentedly, and he freed her long hair from the collar of her flightsuit, making her shiver as his hand ghosted across her neck. "You feel better?"

She shrugged. "As good as I'll ever feel about it, I guess. Actually," she considered, "I might feel a bit better."

"Why's that?"

Twisting around, she met his eyes seriously. "When we first talked about this, everything was very hypothetical, but now that it looks like we might actually see some action sooner rather than later… he should be insulated from that as much as possible." She hesitated. "He's too… innocent, too pure for this nonsense."

"The life of a Jedi isn't exactly that of a pacifist," Jag pointed out a bit warningly.

"Maybe he'll decide he doesn't want to be a Jedi." Jaina shrugged and then dug an elbow gently into his stomach. "Your dad seems to think he'll mold Navi into a proper little Imperial while they're out in the Remnant."

Jag snorted. "Imperials are _not_ spoiled rotten, and that's exactly what Navi- and Ashlin- will be after spending an extended period around their grandparents, as much as father tries to deny it." She laughed softly. "Can we talk business for a minute?" Pulling herself reluctantly from his arms, Jaina hoisted herself back up onto the table and rested her elbows on her thighs, leaning forward to watch him closely. "You have bothans in your crew, don't you?"

She bit her lip and nodded. "Two bothans and two falleen."

"I have a bothan, a rodian, and two sullustans." He gave a half-hearted shrug. "They've all been vouched for by either Gennevi or Darklighter but I can't help but think that this is unfair of us; who knows how any of them will feel when we tell them we're facing potential skirmishes with their own people?"

"First," she cocked a brow, "they're here because they've chosen to serve the Galactic Alliance, even if their home systems have not. Secondly, I should think they'd be relieved to help prevent a war in which, by all rights, their peoples' confederation would be crushed." Jaina half-turned, sensing two familiar presences approaching. "Thirdly, the whole mission is still largely-"

"Meeting, conference room, now," Wedge Antilles informed them from the doorway stiltedly. The couple exchanged a quick glance and then scrambled to their feet and followed Wedge and Corran back out into the corridor and down to the large room at the far end of the hallway where Kyp, Gennevi, Iella, and Mirax were already assembled.

Jaina carefully looked around the room, taking in expressions from mild confusion to grim determination. She turned back though when Wedge shut the door and addressed her individually. "Jaina, your wild scheme of putting a stop to the potential conflict between the Bothan-led confederation and the Defense Force just got a lot more complicated- and a lot more real." He nodded to Iella, who pressed a button on a holopad that was connected to a display in the center of the table. Graphics, charts, and data immediately began to appear.

Kyp glanced at Wedge. "What's this?"

"This," he informed them grimly, "is the current and month-out projection deployment patterns for the confederation collective force."

Gennevi's brows shot towards her blonde hairline. "We have this _how_?"

"How do you think?"

"You mean… Gavin?" Wedge nodded. "But how did he…?"

"Our analysis of Nek Bwua'tu seems to have been accurate," Iella offered quietly. "He is risking a great deal to- essentially- ensure his own defeat." She drew a heavy breath. "The question that must be asked now though is… what is this confederation up to that scares him so much?"

Wedge shook his head. "We don't know, but it seems to be scaring Coruscant just as much. Gavin also suggested… subtly… that Niathal is in the process of persuading Essada that a strike is essential."

Jaina shook her head. "But mightn't that be a good thing?" All eyes swiveled to her. "A swift and surgical preemptive strike to cripple their firepower potential… it wouldn't be ideal from a diplomatic standpoint, but we don't know what GA Intelligence knows."

"I would agree with you," Wedge sat back tiredly in his chair, "if, say, Gavin were tasked with such a strike."

"But he isn't. Who?"

"Reige."

Kyp cocked a brow. "Is that bad?"

Wedge glanced at Gennevi. "Part of the problem is that we just don't know. Reige is a largely unknown quantity, he's fairly young, didn't rise up the command ranks until after the Yuuzhan Vong war, only recently took up the role as Imperial Head of State and even more recently took control of the Third Fleet. Pellaeon seems to have great faith in him which is a promising recommendation, but…"

"He's still an Imperial and we all know what a collective sort of despise Imperials have for armed rebellion," Jag concluded succinctly.

His uncle's lips quirked as he inclined his head sharply. "Gennevi, you served in the Fleet most recently- any insights?"

Sighing, she swept her blonde hair over her shoulder and pondered the question. "Reige is… uncompromising," she finally decided. "When he has his orders, knows his duty- he follows through to the end. But even when I was with Tactical, he was with the Imperial Home Fleet," she reminded them all. "Nhylatich had the Third." A quick look in Jag's direction suggested she was not unaware of the touchiness of the subjects of the Third Fleet and Tal Nhylatich to the Fels.

The former general nodded slowly as he took in that information. "It is _my_ fear that matters will turn unnecessarily bloody if the confederation provokes Essada and Niathal into ordering the Third to attack; this seems to be Bwua'tu's fear as well. But we are running out of time in which we might do anything about it. So here's what is going to happen:

"We're scrapping the separate training plan; we don't have time to be coy anymore. We train intensively, we plan our tactics _together_, as one unit- and in one week, we're going to go and make sure that the Fleet has no reason to consider the confederation collective a threat anymore."

X-X-X-X

_Wild Space – Planetoid 5249125_

_She was a scared little girl, trying to be brave, to show them all that she wasn't afraid- to show _herself_ that she wasn't afraid, that she knew her family would find her one day soon. There was a constant flow of worried reassurance from mommy, and Uncle Jacen and grandma, and Great-uncle Luke. And once in a while, that gentle and warm touch, like a cocoon of safety wrapping around her, from her friend Kyp. It never lasted long, just long enough to help her forget her panic, to remind her that they were coming for her, that _he_ was coming for her… _

_Kyp… she'd waited for him before, had registered his Force-presence before she truly understood what it was, it was just _there_, and she'd known exactly what he was telling her even though she was just a little girl… a little girl, turning two years old… grandma and grandpa were there, and Jacen, and daddy's uncle Wedge and his family… _

_She knew he'd arrived but struggled to separate the strands of those memories from the ones where she simply knew he was coming, even as she succumbed to sleep; it was the similarity, the echoes of the past in her waiting _now_… and try as she might, she could not figure out the importance of his visit. But there was something, something in the talk he'd had with mommy and daddy the next day…_

_Leyla latched onto the wisp of memory and tried to place herself in it. Mommy sitting her down in the living room with a toy and _HoloNet Kids!_ programming, telling her to play quietly while she and daddy talked to Kyp for a while. And she was a good girl, she did what mommy said, but when she was thirsty and wanted her juice, she'd crept to the edge of the kitchen and tried to listen, to see if it was a good time to ask for it… _

"Kyp…"

"Jaina, I've given this a lot of thought and… it's for the best."

"If you're afraid that-"

"It's nothing to do with fear,"_ Kyp's voice was calm and reassuring. _"It's about what's best for your… our… daughter. And the confusion she would feel- she'd never understand, not for a long time- and I want her to understand, Jaina."

_Mommy was quiet for a long time. _"Jag?"

"This is between the two of you,"_ his tone was kind of odd. _"I was there when she was born, I've helped raise her from day one. Leyla will always be my daughter and whatever you decide here, today, can never change that."

_Kyp and mommy were quiet again, until mommy half-turned and shook her head, smiling tightly at her as she came cautiously around the corner. _"Hey, sweetie- crept up on us."

"Juice?"_ she asked as mommy pulled her up into her lap. Daddy silently stood and retrieved her bottle from a high cabinet and filled it with her juice. He handed it to her and she said 'thanks' like mommy and daddy always told her to, and then mommy sent her off to play again._

_She opened her eyes again and scowled up at the ceiling of her small bedroom- her small prison. None of it made any sense, not _now_ anyway. Kyp didn't even _have_ a daughter, and of course daddy was her daddy and always would be. _

_It wouldn't be until several days later, when Kyp found her and took her away, and she was finally able to relax and really think about the conversation, that she would register Kyp's odd words. '_It's about what's best for your… our… daughter.' _Our daughter_. _Mommy and Kyp's daughter. Not mommy and daddy. _

Thirteen years later, Leyla woke with a gasp and sat up. It took her a long moment to register her surroundings; the soft glow of sunrise came through the single window of her room and painted the wall an unusual orange color that deepened into a blood red that bathed the window sill. Rubbing her eyes and wiping her forehead- noting the thin sheen of sweat clinging to it- she swung her legs out of the small cot and went to the window.

The concept of a day was slightly skewed here. A revolution of the planetoid only took some nineteen hours- shorter than the standard Coruscanti day she was used to, _far_ shorter than Ossus's thirty-one hour day, but two hours longer than the seventeen hour day on the Chiss capital world of Csilla. So to wake up to a sunrise was a somewhat deceptive concept, and regulating her schedule here had been something of a challenge at first.

A glance at her chrono told her she'd woken an hour before her alarm would have done so. Smoothing tangles from her long hair, she found a thong and pulled it up into a high queue, and then began hunting for a decent jumpsuit that did not have shock blade burns all over it. Tucking her lightsaber into a pocket, she forwent the utility belt and just clipped her comlink to a belt loop before departing the small and sparsely decorated living space.

Mornings were the worst, she realized belatedly as she sucked in a breath that was full of warm moisture, as her clothing immediately began sticking to her skin. The overnight dew on the grass and other plant life evaporated under bright sun, giving the air a foggy appearance in first hours after sunrise. This place was a far cry from the temperate forests of Ossus, or the externally-controlled climate of Coruscant.

It became readily apparent that her planned run was not a great idea; nevertheless, she picked an intuitive trail through the thick undergrowth in the direction of the clearing in which she had sparred with Zekk. Cries from some unseen avian species followed her and informed her in no uncertain terms that she was interrupting hunting or feeding time. It was as she took a more measured pace back though that she realized she was not alone in her early morning stroll. She sensed the two of them before she saw or heard them, and she faded into the shadows beneath a tree that was some fifteen meters from the encampment clearing.

"You're placing a great deal of faith in Vitor Reige."

"You respect the man."

"I respect his abilities as a military leader and, yes, sometimes, as a political one. I do not, however, have any reason to expect him to dance to your tune when you are not only hundreds of light years apart, but he has never met you and never will, I expect."

"I know Gilad Pellaeon. Reige is his protégé. He'll not let him wander astray."

"Pellaeon is loyal to the Galactic Alliance."

"But he is the Empire's man through and through."

There was a long pause. "Karrde's report about Terrik's ship is interesting, to say the least. What do you make of it?"

Red eyes flickered in Leyla's direction, and she felt the foolish realization that Thrawn had known she was there the entire time. "Too early to say," he murmured back to Cem. "Especially if the Jedi are acting… in an unofficial capacity."

Cem chuckled drily. "Truth be told, I do not know my sister-in-law well at all- but I do not doubt that future developments will be… interesting, to say the least."

And they walked on. Leyla leaned back against the rough bark of her tree and closed her eyes, wondering what her mother was up to.

X-X-X-X

Her answer came over breakfast. The standard fare was nutritious, calculated to precise species requirements… and it was also utterly tasteless, to her taste buds. Leyla wondered if it was better adapted for chiss or eickarie preferences than human, but refrained from asking, lest she appear to be complaining. Which, she supposed, she would be.

Eating earlier than usual due to her early rising, she was without the usual company of Zekk, Tahlia, Olly, and Vulcor. Two chiss Jedi males made halting conversation with her that was positively loquacious by their usual standards. When they left the table, Leyla took another few minutes to finish her uninteresting gruel and was nearly done when someone else took up one of the empty seats across from her.

"The avians which roost in this vicinity have particular vocal tendencies when they feel intruded upon." Leyla stared at him questioningly, and he elaborated, lips quirking slightly. "Lest you were concerned that your abilities at stealth were wanting."

A faint flush suffused her cheeks. "I wasn't following you and Cem."

Thrawn's obvious amusement did little to help her chagrin. "Of course you weren't, you were there first. We intruded upon _your_ solitude." She stayed quiet. "Did you find what you were looking for?"

"What makes you think I was looking for something?"

"Anyone who suddenly alters their normal routine to meander a wild jungle must be seeking something," a blue-black brow rose curiously. "If only peace of mind."

"I suppose it's your job to know everything that goes on around here." She couldn't even bring herself to be perturbed by his knowledge of her 'normal routine.' "Cem mentioned my mother."

He considered her a moment with unnerving glowing eyes. "A number of Jedi have set up base on Terrik's Star Destroyer- your mother, father, and young Skywalker among them. Talon Karrde further suspects, based upon parts requisitions, that their activity is masking that of another group of pilots- one that probably includes your stepfather."

"How could you know that? Or Karrde?"

"Deductive logic from the fact that your young brother is now on Bastion with his grandparents."

She nearly choked on her water. "What?"

"In all likelihood, he is far safer there than on Coruscant." He glanced towards the door to the small dining facility and stood. "We may have a narrow window of opportunity approaching," he changed the subject abruptly. "There is much to discuss this morning. Jedi Solo-Fel," a curt nod acknowledged her and he left as quickly as he'd appeared.

X-X-X-X


	11. Chapter 10

**A/N: Summer314: **_Congratulations on how well you've built the situation, it must have taken a lot of effort_

**Yes. Yes it did. LOL. This fic was about… eh… 5 months in the making (the whole thing, parts I & II) between scheming, initial sketches, and the actual writing stages. Definitely the most complex thing I've ever written, because it was also tying in a lot of details from other fics in this AU. I wanted to end the AU with a decisive bang, and figured a Thrawn clone did that pretty effectively, haha. It's certainly been a fun ride for me, so I hope it is for everyone else too! ;-)**

**Chapter 10**

_Errant Venture_

"Red squadron, you may begin your run."

Jaina checked her scopes and scanners, and toggled over to her squadron's frequency. "One, two, and three flights, arm ion pulse missiles, break by wing pairs- one flight, tag targets one and two; two flight, three and four; three flight, five and six."

She received acknowledgements from two and three flights' leaders- Kyp and Octa Ramis- and then toggled again, this time over to the one flight frequency. "Red Three, two target is yours. Let's go."

"Acknowledged, Lead," Ben's voice, slightly distorted by the comm waves, came back and the four Stealths of one flight peeled off towards the two largest vessels of the enemy force; behind them, two flight was veering towards their targets, and three flight followed suit close behind.

Taking a moment to double check her weapons armed, Jaina led Red Two- Thann Mithric- towards the Bothan assault cruiser that was indicated to be the flagship of the armada. "Red Two, target the top midline, just below the bridge."

He double clicked his understanding, and then Gennevi's voice came over the general frequency. "Turbolasers coming online now, Red squadron. Watch yourselves."

"Acknowledged, Command." Jaina gritted her teeth as they began weaving evasive patterns through the sudden barrage of fire from the cruiser. Bright green splashed across her viewport from passing beams that would vaporize her before she even knew what hit her, should she cross paths with one. Rising up over the bulk of the cruiser, checking to make sure that Thann was still tucked in safely behind her, she toggled back to her squadron frequency. "Red squadron, acquire targets and fire at will; then come around and fly cover for your counterpart flights on Gold squadron." She switched frequencies again. "Red two, fire."

Four missiles streaked out, two from each of their fighters, and struck precisely along the midline of the assault cruiser. For a moment, it was as though nothing happened; the impact of the missiles did not penetrate the shields, did not cause any damage to the cruiser itself.

Then the shield began to glow stronger, seemed to waver and ripple as the energy of the pulse missiles spread from the impact site… and then the faint blue aura began to break up, cracked and dissipated, and her sensors registered the effect. "Shields down on the big cruiser," Jaina informed both squadrons and Command, even as the other pilots began reporting similar successes.

"Gold squadron, begin your run."

"Acknowledged," Jag's voice responded stiltedly to Gennevi.

"Red squadron, you have fighters tailing you out of the engagement zone."

Jaina cursed under her breath. This was a new addition to the simulator run, which had focused primarily on the targeting and timing of the three runs against the capital ships of the confederation; now that they had that aspect of it down, it seemed that Wedge and Gennevi thought they were prepared to both accomplish their mission and deal with snubfighters.

"Red eleven is hit." That was Seha Dorvald, the young redheaded Jedi who was only a few years older than Ben. "Shields at fifty percent capacity, rudder is sluggish."

Well, the shields weren't all that strong on a StealthX to begin with. "Twelve, escort eleven out of here- rendezvous with the shuttle on the far side of the moon."

"Copy, Leader."

As Seha and Yaqeel peeled away from the battle, the fighters of Gold squadron came tearing in, ion cannons blazing. The one major benefit for Gold squadron being formed from scrapped fighters was the rearming and rewiring of the weapons systems. XJ6s and XJ7s were not traditionally armed with ion cannons, and it left them more vulnerable, perhaps, than it should have- consequently, they did not carry lasers, but still boasted four proton torpedoes apiece. But for the purposes of this mission, it would have to suffice.

Ben and his wingmate, the romoan Bazel Warv, fell back into line with Jaina and Thann seconds before one flight of Gold squadron veered off to meet them, flashing past even as the four of them came around to follow. Jaina grinned ruefully. "Take it easy there, Jag," she murmured under her breath, watching as his fighter followed a precise dance that carefully timed the turbolaser blasts, even as he disabled two single-person fighters in quick succession.

"Targeting primary turbolaser battery emplacements," Jag's voice broke through her headset.

They broke off again by wing pairs, and Jaina and Thann trailed Jag and his wingmate close in to the belly of the cruiser- an angle too severe for the turbolasers to effectively target them- and then Jag and his wingmate unleashed their torpedoes, striking alternating emplacements and knocking them out for the fight and, ideally, for several weeks while repairs were effected.

Short transmissions from Ben and Gold three confirmed that the portside emplacements met a similar fate, and his flight continued to hit the topside batteries while Jaina and Jag took their wingmates around the starboard side of the cruiser. The XJs unleashed their last two torpedoes apiece. "Cruiser down to twenty percent firepower," Jaina reported in.

"Hit the bridge, Red Leader."

"Copy that." She switched over to one flight's channel. "Red Three, take four and hit the bridge of target two; watch for any live batteries."

"Copy, Lead."

Mere seconds later- with the flashes of four more well-placed ion pulse missiles- the flagship assault cruiser was effectively dead in space. It would take three to four hours to bring enough systems back on line for it to limp out of the system. The damage to the shields and turbolasers though would effectively guarantee that they wouldn't be launching any sort of assault for weeks- hopefully never, if Bwua'tu was able to do something with the time afforded him by the strike.

X-X-X-X

_Wild Space – Planetoid 5249125_

"As our intelligence currently stands, we expect the strike against the confederation fleet to come in approximately one week." Cem spoke tiredly, and sat at the head of the conference table, rather than pace around the room as he often did at such meetings. "The attack itself is, to the best of our knowledge, orchestrated on both sides by Ryoqim; we must therefore conclude that neither side will give in to surrender, nor will defeat be accepted easily." He met the eyes of each person around the table evenly. "There's nothing we can do about that."

Tahlia shook her dark red hair out of her eyes. "I still don't understand what he means to accomplish in this."

"Sending a far superior force to crush a small militia that has yet to act aggressively towards the Galactic Alliance… no matter how much evidence is fabricated to suggest the necessity of the act- for all we know, Intelligence has reports that the confederation is constructing another Death Star- other semi-independent systems will question the moral fabric of the leadership, both political and military. Systems with the wherewithal, systems like Corellia, will be forced to question their own membership. Some will resign, some will offer their support to the Bothan-led confederation.

"In short," he sighed, "we find ourselves on the brink of the next galactic civil war. And we need to take the window we have to learn everything we can from Ryoqim's office while the senator is performing his evaluation of Admiral Niathal and the Supreme Fleet."

Zekk raised a brow skeptically. "The NOC is evaluating the new Supreme Commander in the middle of a military operation?"

Cem's smile was brittle. "Our information comes from highly encrypted comm channels, remember. Officially, the strike is not an action condoned by the Senate, or even with its remote knowledge. But we know that it is coming and we know that Ryoqim is positioning himself with the Supreme Fleet in a very specific window of time; it doesn't take much to connect things. He wants to be able to personally verify that Niathal is upholding her end of the bargain."

"That will create tensions not just between the military and the Senate, but between the Senate and Essada as well, once they realize she unilaterally approved the action." Zekk's tone was mild.

"Also not an unfamiliar dynamic from the last civil war," Thrawn commented softly. "Save one key difference: Polla Essada is a populist- she is no empress. And consequently, she is ultimately of little use to Ryoqim, who needs someone decisive and heavy-handed to counter the slow deliberation of the Senate."

Zekk's lips twitched. "Perhaps you should apply for the job, Thrawn."

"I'm afraid I haven't the temperament for dealing with politicians."

Tahlia muttered under her breath- quietly and two seats away from Leyla- but just loud enough for her to hear. "Morgny was a politician, you dealt with him just fine."

Cem shot her a look and continued quickly. "We already have two Jedi on Coruscant and plan to send two more along with Zekk. They will rendezvous on the surface and connect with-"

But Leyla tuned him out, frowning lightly in Tahlia's direction; but the older woman wasn't paying her any mind while Zekk was murmuring quietly in her ear. On Leyla's other side, she sensed Vulcor paying pointed attention to Cem- and pointedly avoiding looking in her direction. And then, with great reluctance, she raised her eyes to the far side of the table, and met Thrawn's glowing red ones that held a sort of unapologetic acknowledgement as he apparently followed her thought process, as he awaited her coming realization.

It came. And suddenly, a lot of things made sense.

She slowly rose to her feet, vaguely noticing that Cem stopped talking and looked at her in confusion. "Leyla?"

But just as during her first encounter with him, she found her eyes locked on Thrawn's, was unable to wrench her gaze to her uncle, or to the Jedi sitting beside her, even as she yanked her arm out of Vulcor's reach. "It wasn't the Emperor."

"No."

"It could have been my mother, my uncle… instead of me."

His jaw twitched and there was the briefest flash of consternation in his eyes. "My involvement died with Yarden Morgny, Jedi Solo-Fel. I had no knowledge of the project's continued survival when I woke, never dreamed it outlasted him."

"But it was your plan. _You_ created Red Hand. That's how you identified the chiss Force-sensitives- you'd done it before."

"Yes." Three slow beats passed while every eye in the room was trained on one of them or the other. "Perhaps it was unwise, not to bring the matter to your attention from the beginning."

She forced a bitter smile. "No," she shook her head slowly. "As I said before, _Crahsystor_- I have no reason to trust you; why should I have expected your candor?" Thrawn said nothing, and she turned almost painfully to Vulcor. "But you," Leyla whispered. "You suspected it, didn't you? From the first time you came down in this bunker that's so similar to the one on Gree Baaker, to all that time you spent talking with the Jedi, learning about their training, about guiding themselves along just as you did under Wrynn's supervision…"

His grey eyes were pleading- but they were also guilty. "Leyla…"

"And then when Zekk and Tahlia arrived, she confirmed it- and _you_ told her not to tell me." His silence was damning. "I see." She drew a steadying breath and turned stoically back to Cem. "I'll go to Coruscant- not Zekk." Holding up a hand, she cut off his automatic argument, and shot a deadly look to Vulcor when he started to open his mouth. "It's only sensible; if anyone else was caught sneaking around the Senate offices, they'd never be able to bluff their way out. But there are some benefits to being defined by a name, by one's family." Despite her best efforts, she wasn't able to keep all of the bitterness from her voice.

"Besides- you'll need Zekk and Tahlia's expertise when it comes to hunting down the pathogen on each planet."

From his tone, it seemed obvious that he expected her to refuse. But she'd known right away what he would say. "I'm going with you."

Leyla closed her eyes and avoided Vulcor's gaze. "You'll be more useful here, coordinating Jedi teams to neutralize the threat."

"But-"

"Vulcor," she held up a hand and wrenched her eyes open, meeting his with deadly seriousness. "I'm… asking you to stay."

His expression closed off abruptly, and she fought from cringing against his sudden detachment, the coolness of his gaze as he stiltedly replied, "So be it."

"I'll leave tomorrow," she continued, eyes at the floor. "It's three days to Coruscant; set up the rendezvous with Ghent, I definitely can't do this without him. And I want Fyaru and Taseek to come with me."

It was quiet for a long minute until Thrawn spoke a single, simple word. "Done."

Cem whirled on him. "That's it?"

"Jedi Solo-Fel's logic is sound. Master Zekk has already risked an open appearance on Sullust, the Jedi Council must surely be suspicious of his motives by now." He looked at Leyla with calculating eyes. "We will escort you to the rendezvous point near Kril'dor, where you will meet with Karrde and Ghent."

She nodded curtly- and then turned heel, and swept from the room without another word.

X-X-X-X


	12. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

_Wild Space – Planetoid 5249125_

She woke with a start and knew immediately that she was not alone, even before she had sought out the red eyes, glowing from across the room.

"Lights!" she snapped, and then blinked against the harsh glare. Thrawn seemed unaffected. "What are you doing?"

"Watching you sleep." She blinked, not wholly sure if he was serious or in some way teasing her or mocking her. "Is it true, that Jedi never dream?"

Frowning heavily, she sat up slowly, running a hand through her long, disheveled hair. "There are few absolutes in life, as I suspect you are aware." She wasn't entirely sure why she was answering the question, rather than demanding his immediate departure. "But personally, I recall dreams very rarely." He inclined his head in acknowledgement and her scowl deepened. "You have a strange sense of spatial propriety, Crah- Thrawn."

A slight twitch of his brows suggested he found some humor in her statement. "My sense and appreciation of propriety are unaffected," he assured her. "I am simply choosing to ignore them for the time being. I've even brought a peace offering-," he gestured to two mugs sitting on the desk beside him.

She stared. "You entered my room uninvited and brought me caf to make up for it?"

"No," he returned slowly, "I entered your room uninvited and brought you ch'hala tea to make up for it. The caf is mine."

_How in the name of_… her eyes narrowed. "You've also been going through my things."

"Only to find your ch'hala tea."

For a ridiculous moment, she considered asking him how he'd known that he would find it, but the word games were tiring her already, and she'd only just awoken. With a heavy sigh, she reached for her chrono, and then closed her eyes wearily. "It's rather early," she accused.

"I did not intend to wake you; I am still learning the full extent of a Jedi's capabilities, and was unsure of your awareness in sleep."

"But you brought tea, so you must have suspected that your presence would _not_ go unnoticed."

A purple lip quirked slowly. "Your skills of deduction are not to be trifled with."

"Now you're making fun of me."

"Not in the slightest," he said in a surprisingly sincere voice. "You are displaying an impressive ability to balance your analysis of the situation with your anger at the situation itself."

Her soft brown eyes narrowed slightly. "Call it part of a Jedi's capabilities." He took a long sip from his mug and waited patiently. With a huff, she stood and drew a plain cloak on over her sleep shorts and tee. "Have you been watching Vulcor sleep as well?" she bit out as she grabbed the second mug and sniffed at it before taking a tentative sip.

"So suspicious of me?" he asked softly.

"You're the one watching me sleep." She paused. "Most people sweeten it far too much." He just smiled mysteriously and sat back, watching her. "You didn't answer my question," she pointed out.

He set his mug down. "No, I have not seen your companion, awake or asleep, since we parted ways last night."

"So the honor is all mine?"

For a long time, he was silent, and her discomfiture heightened under his scrutiny. Well aware of the mild irony, she sipped at the tea to distract her nerves. "You remind me of someone I once knew. A friend. He was older than you when we met, but like you, he had a talent for reading into a situation that which went unspoken." He considered her a moment. "You, however, are more… how do you say… world-wary?"

Leyla thought that over a moment. "Perhaps, growing up among the Chiss, it rubbed off on me," she allowed with a trace of sardonic humor, before sighing and asking tiredly, "What do you want?"

"The opportunity to speak with you, before you undertake your mission."

"I'm not particularly interested in excuses."

"Then it is good that I offer none," he countered evenly. "Merely explanations."

She grimaced, and bit the inside of her cheek as she fought to keep her emotions in check. "You know the real reason I think a lot of people are discomfited around clones?" she finally bit; he watched her curiously. "Because they can't figure out the point at which to justify holding the clone responsible for the actions of the original." Letting out a mirthless laugh, she waved her hand. "Go ahead."

X-X-X-X

_3 BBY – Imperial Palace – Imperial Center (Coruscant) _

"You overstep what is expected and proper of you, Captain Thrawn," the low, cruel voice of the Emperor spoke softly from beneath a dark hood, but each syllable rang clear in the silence of his throne room.

"Due respect," his cultured, even voice was steady, "you have accorded me a position in your human-dominated navy specifically, Eminence, for my ability to think strategically beyond the capacity of most of your other naval commanders. And I am confident that this idea is strategically sound."

Palpatine laughed softly, a chilling sound that would have sent a lesser being running. "I see one banishment was not enough to teach you your place, Thrawn. No matter- I will soon have work for you that is closer to home."

Thrawn inclined his head in simple acknowledgement. "All the more reason, Your Eminence, to grant me permission to go through with this plan now. Lest it be too late, come the invasion," he added quietly.

For an utterly still moment, Thrawn was sure that he had finally pushed the Emperor too far. But the hooded man, hunched over in his seat, laughed again, though his voice took on a harder edge. "You see it as an inevitability then, do you? You, who know naught of what the Jedi were, save your near-death at the hands of C'baoth? You presume to better understand that dead race, Captain?"

"No, Highness," Thrawn murmured, "I merely presume to better understand the Far Outsiders."

Palpatine raised a hand dismissively. "The Far Outsiders," he scoffed. "Sometimes, I wonder whether they are truly as great a threat as you make them out to be, Thrawn. Whether their coming invasion is as… imminent… as you say."

"They are and it is," the chiss replied shortly. "Your Eminence, I have devoted my career to preparing the galaxy for the day when they enter it with their full numbers- even at the cost of exile from my own people."

"Have a care, Captain- your career is now devoted to me and only me." Glowing red eyes flickered before he respectfully lowered his gaze in a sign of apology. "And you are here telling me now that, in order to guarantee the victory of my Empire over the Far Outsiders, I must reestablish the Jedi? My only true foes in this galaxy?"

Thrawn spoke very carefully. "Highness, I know very little about the Jedi and their traditions. I have witnessed enough of their _powers_, however, to make me believe that this 'Force' will be something unknown and insurmountable to the efforts of the invaders. What I am proposing is… a secret project. Find children- ones who don't have families to miss them, preferably- who have an aptitude in this 'Force,' and train them in the power, but not in the tradition. A small force, but enough to strike fear into the hearts of the Far Outsiders, if hearts they have."

The Emperor's laugh was more genuine that time, but no less chilling. "Indeed, Captain Thrawn. And I suppose you have already developed several plans for how and when to implement this scheme of yours?"

A corner of his mouth twitched upwards. "Just one, Highness. I took the liberty of doing some research in an effort to locate a likely sponsor for the project. If I may?" Palpatine lifted a hand fractionally and Thrawn pulled a datapad from his pocket and keyed in a command before handing it over to the seated figure and bowing before taking two steps back again.

The temperature seemed to drop, and he could feel the wrath of the man before him rising as he read over Thrawn's proposal. "How long have you known of this, Thrawn?" he demanded. "Of the treachery of one of my own moffs?"

"I only discovered it just before I requested an audience with Your Eminence," he assured him smoothly. "If I may, however- it is valuable insurance for the secrecy of the project."

The Emperor seemed a bit taken aback, and his tone again became low and deadly. "You are proposing that I… entrust your project to the hands of a traitor, Captain?"

"If his son is part of the project, it will be plenty of motivation to keep it secret- and his gratitude towards you for not punishing his failure to disclose the situation will ensure his continued loyalty to you for the rest of his life."

The throne room was silent for a long time while the Emperor seethed and considered all that had been said. Thrawn remained standing stock-still, waiting for further instructions, further questions, or a dismissal.

"I will think on it," Palpatine finally allowed. "Leave me." He turned to go, but paused and turned back as the Emperor spoke again. "And Thrawn? Have a care- the brilliance of your mind is worth only so much of your insubordination."

He bowed low. "Of course, Highness. I shall strive to better please you in the future."

A last chillingly cold chuckle emitted from beneath the heavy hood. "That you will, Mitth'raw'nuruodo; that you will."

X-X-X-X

_8 ABY – Governor's Palace, Generis – Atrivis Sector _

The unmarked shuttle docked in the governor's private hangar in near silence. There were no reception parties waiting, despite the high honor accorded to Moff Yarden Morgny by his guest's visit. It was a private and secretive affair, and even the Admiral's guards retained a steady distance as he disembarked the shuttle and strode forward with smooth, even steps, to greet the waiting moff.

"Grand Admiral Thrawn," Morgny bowed his head as he shook the blue-skinned hand. "Your visit honors me."

Purplish lips quirked upwards. "Does it, Moff Morgny? I seem to recall a certain- frustration- in our last dealings with one another."

The elderly man chuckled a bit wryly and turned to lead the way out of the hangar, Thrawn falling into step beside him as they were shadowed by his noghri bodyguard, Rukh, and two stormtroopers. "Perhaps, Admiral; however, four years have proven sufficient time for me to… rethink my position."

"It is good that you do not let your fear of that dead witch dictate your actions."

Morgny was silent, frowning in consternation, as they stepped through a doorway and emerged in a courtyard. Numerous plants of local systems in Morgny's governate were in bloom, and the buzzing of pollinating insects served to cover the sounds of their voices even further. "Many would still consider it treasonous, to talk such," Morgny murmured softly.

"Then it is good that you are as great a traitor as I am, Yarden," Thrawn's voice was laden with subtle humor. "And so I know you will not condemn me. Such as it is, the Emperor betrayed me first, when he attempted to twist the project to meet his own ends while I was sequestered away in the Unknown Regions. Upon his death, I merely… retook control."

They strode with their heads bowed, hands clasped behind their backs, both conscious of the precise positions of both the stormtroopers- as per usual, Rukh flitted around unseen and unheard. "Nevertheless, Admiral, I confess myself uneasy at the turn taken by the galaxy since his death. I began to fear you were dead, when the other Grand Admirals were killed or captured and still there was no sign of you."

"My work was not yet completed," he answered firmly, forbidding further commentary on his absence. "Indeed, it still is not truly finished, but you are correct- my attention was required in the known galaxy." He held up a hand and the stormtroopers stopped where they were while Thrawn led Morgny on another few paces. "The apprentices- they are… contented to continue waiting?"

Morgny frowned more heavily that time. "For now, though they are beginning to wonder what, precisely, they are waiting for."

Thrawn nodded his understanding. "I am hoping to have a new instructor for them soon, I confess."

"You have found a trained Force-user?"

For a moment, the chiss seemed to judge how much to divulge. "Yarden," he murmured softly, "I trust we can keep this between ourselves, for now- you know of this Luke Skywalker, brother to Councilor Organa Solo?" Morgny nodded. "They are the twin children of Darth Vader."

Morgny hissed a breath. "He may not be a true Jedi yet, but Skywalker has no love for the Empire, Admiral. You will be hard-pressed to earn his allegiance."

"Of this, I am aware," the admiral muttered. "Skywalker still carries a youthful idealism that is… quite quaint. Nevertheless, I know how to get to him- unfortunately I must go through an intermediary, but this cannot be avoided. When I have him though, when he understands what we are up against, then I will turn your apprentices over to him- and hope that they have not been overly corrupted by the Emperor's black magic."

The moff stared at him a minute, eyes calculating. "You mean to do it then? You mean to see the Jedi rise again?"

Thrawn jerked his head in what might have been an expression of annoyance or anger. "The Emperor's ego, pride, and lust for power drove him to destroy this galaxy's greatest asset. He was a fool, and I can only hope to rectify his mistakes before it is too late."

"And if these invaders do not come in your lifetime, Thrawn?" Morgny asked earnestly. "You are only one being- as we have already seen with the Emperor, no one can live forever."

The definite ghost of a smile quirked his lips that time. "Yarden, you speak the truth. I cannot cheat death any more than his Excellency. However… I am hoping to play with it a bit."

X-X-X-X

_47 ABY – Wild Space – Planetoid 5249125_

Leyla swallowed thickly as she recalled Zekk's warning words to her with sparkling clarity.

'_Thrawn's mind operates on a bewildering scale, his moral compass attuned in a wholly unique way and, within those considerations- galactic wellbeing before any single individual- one could justify nearly anything as the right thing to do. And that is a slippery slope to tread.'_

He was watching her closely and she shook her head. "I don't know what you expect me to say."

She picked up on the faintest flash of irritation, though his outward demeanor was unchanged. "I expect you to _think_, Jedi Solo-Fel. Remove the situation from your family."

"And reassure you that the freedom of a few is a justified cost for the lives of billions?"

"Trillions, Jedi Solo-Fel. The four-hundred trillion who suffered and died at the hands of the Yuu'zhan'vong."

"And you think Luke Skywalker and a collection of ragtag apprentices could have saved them all?"

He smiled, a feral, tooth-baring grin. "I think a Jedi order that was prepared, that knew what it stood against, could have dealt with the invaders more swiftly, more effectively. Though I do not deny- despite the high cost of victory- that the Jedi won the war anyway."

Frowning thoughtfully, she considered him from a new angle. "Is that what we are to you? Another weapon to be deployed at the optimal moment? A tool for success?"

A brow rose slowly. "Is that not what the Jedi were to the Republic, in its time of need? You have been fortunate to live in a time of peace and stability, my young Jedi. But when the galaxy next faces open war- which may be sooner, rather than later- do you imagine that it will not be the Jedi who are first to respond to the call?"

"Then that will be _their_ choice," she countered harshly. "Not the Galactic Alliance's, and certainly not yours." A faint smile was concealed as he took another sip from his mug. "Did Zekk and Tahlia have a choice?"

"Did you and Jedi Vulcor?" That stopped her short- of course they'd had a choice, Cem had laid it out very clearly for them. But knowing what they knew, what the Empire of the Hand was up against, what threatened the galaxy at large… yes, they'd had the choice to leave, but never could have taken it, not while upholding the ideals that made them Jedi. "You are beginning to understand, I think."

Maybe she was, but it only made her all the angrier. "If the Jedi were to be your willing warriors," she spat out, "then what were the noghri?"

"A miscalculation."

She'd expected him to angry, but he was coolly indifferent to her accusing tone. "What do you think Morgny would have done, had he been alive when the Yuuzhan Vong attacked?"

There was no doubt in his tone. "He would have attempted to make contact with the Jedi, relay all he knew. If that failed, he would have put the resources of Red Hand at the disposal of Admiral Pellaeon, and surrendered himself to the admiral's mercy for his subterfuge." His jaw tensed. "He would _not_ have cowered, safe and secure, while others fought for the galaxy; as his… successor… did."

"I killed him," Leyla found herself murmuring, before she could stop herself. "Croyel."

"Yes, I know."

"Because Vulcor told Tahlia, and Zekk relayed it to you?"

He inclined his head once.

"Who was the son? The insurance."

His eyes flickered strangely. "I believe you already know the answer to that question." Leyla closed her eyes. "He was sent away as a small boy, very young, when he first manifested his abilities. It is quite possible, when he was brought back, that he never knew of his connection to Moff Morgny."

She huffed incredulously. "More likely that he did."

An uneasy silence descended as she pushed aside memories she'd rather forget forever. Memories of a dark man who had told her kindly, matter-of-factly, that she was special, had a destiny to be an empress by his side.

He'd nearly killed Vulcor after the teenager helped Kyp escape with her. She supposed it wasn't all that unbelievable that Wrynn had orchestrated the murder of his own father as well.

"Jedi Vulcor- you are in love with him."

It wasn't even a question. She set her mug down and wrapped her arms around her body, leaning forward and frowning lightly. "That whole propriety thing- you aren't really moving in the right direction, you know."

His lips quirked. "I apologize for making you uncomfortable."

"Is love for idealistic fools?"

He cocked his head slightly and his brows furrowed. "Must idealism and foolishness go hand-in-hand? Perhaps naïveté, more frequently than foolishness."

"Have you ever fancied yourself in love?"

The ghost of a smile touched his face. "See, you again make the same assumption- that love is something to be imagined, thereby suggesting that it is the fool who will give it a name." He paused, considering. "I once 'fancied myself' in love," he acknowledged slowly. "And yet… while I have clear memories of it, I know that I- this body, this being you see before you- have never seen her, never heard her speak, never touched her… never admired her idealism, even as I shattered it with my own actions that were not committed with _these_ hands…" He drew a long breath. "It is a strange thing, Jedi Solo-Fel, to be a clone."

"What was her name?" she asked quietly.

"Maris Ferasi."

Leyla cocked a brow. "Unusual name, for a chiss."

"She was not chiss; she was K'rell'n." A look of consternation touched his features. "Human," he clarified. "From K'rell'ya."

"Corellia?" she asked carefully.

He nodded once, slowly. "In some ways, you remind me of her as well."

"Oh?"

His lips rose in a wistful smile. "There is an openness about you, an honesty… compassion… which I find reminiscent- and refreshing."

A long minute passed in total silence. "Strange that you say that," she finally murmured, "as I have always been told by other Jedi that I am difficult to read."

"Ah," he lifted a single blue finger, "but they are reading that which cannot be seen; I am reading that which is in your eyes… and in your face."

"And in my sleep?"

"And that," he conceded. He paused and drank the remaining liquid in his mug, before peering curiously at the empty cup. "My apologies for the intrusion," he stood smoothly, and held out a hand; she wordlessly passed her empty mug over as well, and he hovered in the doorway a moment, spare hand poised over the release panel.

"Strange thing," he murmured. "I was introduced to caf in my youth and quite detested the drink. Since my… re-awakening, as it were… I've developed quite an affinity for it. A strange thing indeed, being a clone."

And he left.

X-X-X-X


	13. Chapter 12

**A/N: summer314** - _And knowing it, it makes a lot of sense that Thrawn's second cloning chamber was in Morgny's palace_

**And actually, if you go back to the prologue of this part, it does say that he & Car'das are in the Palace on Generis. But it's such a tiny, hidden detail… ;-)**

_In a previous chapter Thrawn said that his interest in Leyla was not romantic, but he gives me the impression that it might be slowly becoming more romantic..._

**Ah, you…need an account so we can discuss such things in PMs, lol. In any case, remind me about this at the end of the story (which has a good ways to go still, but we're getting there).**

**Glad you liked that last chapter- it was actually one of the first scenes I wrote for the whole story. It's so delightfully awkward but, I think, my favorite. **

**Chapter 12**

_Wild Space – Planetoid 5249125_

Not having really considered the matter, Leyla assumed that their journey Core-ward would take place in the same interdictor cruiser which had apprehended her and Vulcor near Eriadu. Consequently, as the first of several shuttles rose off of the nameless jungle world- Thrawn's Exile, as Cem once referred to it sardonically- she was surprised and momentarily taken aback by the sleek shape of a Chiss Star Destroyer. A kilometer long, gleaming and untouched by battle, it was a lethal-looking ship that bristled with deadly purpose.

"Now _that_," Cem murmured by her side, "is a flagship."

Leyla glanced sidelong at him. "Of what?"

"Just because this war is largely being fought by stealth does not mean we are not prepared for the eventuality of battle."

Their shuttle rose smoothly into the indicated hanger bay and set down. Leyla and Cem disembarked, followed by the two chiss Jedi who were to accompany Leyla to Coruscant, Fyaru and Taseek. Both were young, probably a few years younger than her twenty years, but they were quick thinkers and decisive actors. They also had friendly relations with the two female chiss already on Coruscant, and would help in tracking them down to enlist their assistance for surveillance and evacuation purposes.

When they reached the bridge, Thrawn and Nabrin were already present, and Leyla wondered if they hadn't shuttled up very soon after her bizarre morning chat with the clone. Zekk was also there with Olyxes, and Leyla suspected that Malani or Tawina would come up in the last shuttle to take the toddler back down to the planet again. For now though, he stared around with wide eyes at everything, hovering by Zekk's side as he gave instructions to Taseek, who nodded once and then turned and departed the bridge with Fyaru.

And on the far side of the bridge, at the comm station, Vulcor stood with the eickarie, Major Ra-ban, and Tahlia. Vulcor and Major Ra-ban would be staying behind as well, responsible for communications and coordination between Leyla's team on Coruscant, the Star Destroyer and its dozen-Jedi complement, and the Jedi remaining on-planet, awaiting orders.

And so, she supposed, it was just down to her to make sure that all of these preparations didn't go to waste.

"Leela?"

She tried to suppress the silly grin as Olyxes tugged on her hand. _Leela_. Naviin had struggled to say her name for several years, and had finally just taken to calling her 'Leelee,' and the nickname had stuck for a long time, even after he was able to wrap his mouth around 'Leyla' a little better. "Yes, Olly?"

"Daddy says you're leaving. Will it be dangerous?"

His eyes were heartbreakingly earnest, but she forced a reassuring smile as she crouched down to his level. "Of course not. I'm just going back to the place where I grew up."

"Cor-sant?"

"Yeah," she grinned again. "But I'll be back, okay?"

His tone was reluctant, and Leyla thought about all the times Zekk and Tahlia must have been forced to leave him behind while they went investigating somewhere; hopefully, this would be the last of those times. "Okay." He leaned forward and wrapped his arms around her. "Be careful."

"I will," she promised solemnly, hugging him back until he pulled away and retreated back to his father's side. It occurred to her though, as she watched the two-year-old, just how desperately she missed her little brother- and the guilt of dropping off the charts with no explanation hit her like stun baton to the head.

Right on cue, as though to remind her of his warning about how her disappearance would hurt her family, Vulcor's quiet voice brought her out of her momentary reverie. "I guess this is it."

She blinked up at him, trying to force her face into impassivity, chagrined that he was accomplishing it with much greater success. "I guess so- for now."

"Take care of yourself, alright? It's a… heavy burden you've taken on here."

Attempting a rueful grin, she shook her head. "You're the one tasked with coordinating galactic salvation, if I'm successful."

"I'm serious, Leyla," he stared at her. "Don't let your guard down for an instant. Trust in your feelings first and foremost, regardless of what Ghent's espionage work suggests."

"I'll be fine," she assured him softly. He continued watching her, expression serious and a bit grim, and she finally sighed and looked away. "I should go and help Fyaru and Taseek with-" She was cut off when he gripped her wrist and pulled further into the shadows beside an unoccupied communications station. "What are you-?"

"I didn't mean to hurt you," he got out in a rush, voice pleading. "I just… I didn't want to see you struggling with the memories of Wrynn or Croyel… especially Croyel… when it just didn't matter, not to what we're up against today."

She cocked a brow. "Never thought I'd hear you defending Thrawn."

His eyes flashed. "I'm defending no one; but Croyel was the Emperor's man, through and through. It was inconceivable to me that he knew of Morgny's involvement with Thrawn, and Tahlia confirmed it for me. Thrawn truly had no part whatsoever in what Red Hand became in the years before it- before _we_- kidnapped you."

"I know that. And I'm not angry, with you _or_ him."

He hesitated. "You aren't?"

Slowly shaking her head, she crossed her arms protectively over her chest and muttered to the floor. "No, I'm not; not anymore. Because honestly, Vulcor, having thought about it last night- I'm not surprised in the slightest that you kept it from me. So no," she repeated, "I'm not angry; hurt, yes… but not angry." She closed her eyes as he swept a loose lock of hair out of her face and carefully cupped her cheek. "Don't."

His voice was barely above a whisper. "I'm sorry." When she didn't answer, he relented and sighed, leaning forward to press a light kiss to her forehead. "Be safe." And he turned and swept away, robes billowing behind him.

Leyla swiped angrily at her eyes, wiping away the single traitorous tear that escaped from each. Taking a moment to collect herself, she slipped out from behind the comm unit and headed in the opposite direction as Vulcor, determined to get off the crowded bridge, take a minute to fume- or scream- and then go find her insertion team.

"Leyla?"

Stopping but not turning, she just asked tiredly, "What, Cem?"

"We jump in forty-five minutes."

"Okay."

"It's ten hours to the rendezvous point." She nodded. "Command meeting in two hours."

"I'll be there."

As he watched her go, frowning and deep in thought, Cem didn't register the approaching presence until Zekk spoke quietly by his side. "Didn't really see that one coming, did you?"

"I'm not convinced that I should have," he informed the younger man drily. "Still… I'd just assumed that he was a sort of… mentor… for her."

"He _is_- was, anyway- and I think that's the problem."

"And why do I have the strange urge to punch Jedi Vulcor in the nose?"

Zekk laughed boisterously. "For the same reason you had Wynssa's fiancé transferred to the _Ocean_- it's called being a male relative of a young woman." He paused. "Wait until Ashlin is grown."

Cem scowled. "And now I have the strange urge to punch _you_ in the nose."

"Got it, Captain." Zekk sketched a sardonic salute and ducked away to spend as much time as possible with his son before the Star Destroyer went to hyperspace.

X-X-X-X

_Coruscant_

A matter of weeks into her new job, Chief of State Polla Essada was no less overwhelmed than she had found herself within hours of ascending to the position; however, the growing sense of unease was rising stronger every day, and she wondered if every other head of state felt as she did- like she was barely keeping her head above water in a raging sea of turmoil.

Then she realized that she was clearly spending too much time around Cha Niathal, to be making such aquatic metaphors.

"An example is needed, Chief Essada," the Mon Cal in question insisted, one member of a tight-knit group of military advisers, the few who were even privy to the plans being discussed which were, quite frankly, disturbing on multiple levels. "Intelligence Chief Girdun has showed you the intercepted reports and records- Sorosuub is mobilizing and-"

"Then wouldn't it make _more _sense to strike against Sorosuub when they prove to be a threat?" she asked irritably, cutting off the admiral.

Niathal held up a rubbery hand and spoke slowly. "Perhaps… if loss of Alliance life were not a consideration."

She sighed. "Explain."

Girdun looked wholly uncomfortable, but nodded in reluctant concurrence with the admiral. "Chief Essada, an example can be made of the confederation amassing in Bothan Space, an example that will clearly demonstrate to Sullust and Sorosuub that violation of the terms with which they departed the Galactic Alliance- terms which included, I remind you, the agreement not to expand sector or planetary defense fleets disproportionately to increased population or system-membership within their respective region of space and political body… well," he concluded, "we can just as effectively demonstrate that their violation will not be tolerated, by acting against the Bothan force, rather than risking a full-scale engagement of Sorosuub's resources."

"And by all accounts, the Bothans' force has been substantially supplemented by Rodia and Falleen," Essada sighed, rubbing exhaustedly at her eyes.

"Also a violation of their terms of neutral secession," Girdun put in quietly.

Essada worked her jaw in frustration a moment. "And the deadline we gave Nek Bwua'tu and the Bothan Council to comply with their end of the agreement?"

"Time is a greater factor now," Niathal spoke flatly. "And the former admiral is acting treasonously against the Alliance he served so faithfully for two decades."

A grey brow rose questioningly as the Chief of State pondered her Supreme Commander. "I do hope this campaign isn't the manifestation of some desire for vengeance against one being, Admiral- however personally betrayed you may feel by your former comrade."

"My feelings are irrelevant in this," the Supreme Commander blinked her bulbous eyes rapidly, her gravelly words spoken in earnest. "The _truth_ of the matter, Chief Essada, is that one of the greatest catastrophes the Defense Force could face is to find itself suddenly aligned against he who served as its highest officer for years. Imagine if, in the years after the Yuuzhan Vong invasion, Gilad Pellaeon withdrew Imperial support for the Alliance and then turned the Remnant's substantial firepower against us. His knowledge of the inner workings of the Fleet would have become his greatest weapon, and our greatest liability."

The politician shook her head slowly. "I don't like this, Admiral. Conditional secession or no, it speaks a great deal to how we treat those who disagree with us."

"I agree," the Mon Calamari spread her flipper-like hands. "Just as I dislike being in the position where I must consider and even recommend such action. I know Chief Girdun does not relish it either. But such is the price we pay for leadership, for command."

Essada reluctantly inclined her head. Girdun grimaced. "You understand the necessity for operational security, Chief Essada?"

Nodding wearily, she stood and strode to the nearest window, hands clasped behind her back, peering out over the Senate District of Coruscant. "I will address the Senate in concert with your strike, Admiral Niathal. Though it is hardly ideal, by my reckoning."

"Then let us all have faith that this threat will be ended with just this one engagement."

X-X-X-X

_Chiss Star Destroyer _The Hand_ - Near Kril'dor_

The first words out of Talon Karrde's mouth, as he disembarked the _Wild Karrde_ with Ghent not far behind, were, perhaps, not the best sort of omen one might want to hear.

"I just want it known, right now, that I don't like this."

Zekk rolled his eyes, and then forced a pained smile onto his face. "Always a pleasure to see you as well, Karrde."

It was immediately apparent to Leyla that relations were a bit strained between the two of them. Zekk, far younger but far taller, stood imposingly, arms crossed over his chest; Karrde, easily into his seventies, glanced around the bay of the Star Destroyer with apparent unease. By the way his eyes passed quickly over her, Leyla suspected that he was particularly curious as to the whereabouts of Thrawn.

Ghent, on the other hand, looked mildly bored. A longtime acquaintance of Leyla's grandparents, just like Karrde, by all accounts he had not lost his sense of youthful naïveté which he had carried when he was just a teen slicer, working on the fringe of the law. Leyla had met both of the newly arrived men before, but it had been a long time, close to ten years now.

"He doesn't bite, you know."

Zekk smirked as Karrde regarded him coolly. "No, he just sends Ghent to perform useless espionage against a homicidal psychopath."

"I don't mind." Karrde scowled at the smaller man with the shock of white hair standing behind him.

"That's not the point. I expect you to keep him safe, Master Zekk," he said warningly.

The Jedi's eyes flickered around the hanger and he smiled tightly. "Change of plans, actually. Come, there's much to discuss." He half-turned and beckoned Leyla forward from where she leaned against the nearest bulkhead. "I believe you've both met Leyla before…"

Finally, Karrde's eyes focused on her and, after an instant of confusion and a few seconds of surprise, he took a minute to size her up and consider her. "Of course," he murmured. "It's been a long time." He hesitated. "And how old are you now?"

"Old enough to be able to guess with keen detail what Aunt Mara will do to you if I ever tell her that you copied my Ar-Nine unit's security protocols and passed them along to Thrawn." Her tone was dangerously gleeful.

"Oh dear, and I'd hoped it would take you just a little longer to realize what a lasting bargaining chip you have against me."

Flashing a winning smile, she turned and led the way out of the hangar. "And disappoint my aunt through my lack of opportunism?"

She wasn't entirely sure, but she thought she heard Karrde mutter something under his breath about Solos making his life difficult for decades.

X-X-X-X

"This should be a simple in-and-out process," Zekk concluded, looking over the data and schematics provided by Karrde and Ghent. "The biggest factor is time, and by our calculations, you should have at least ten hours of it- possibly more. Ghent?"

The white-haired man looked up from his datapad a bit blankly, but then collected his thoughts and spoke quickly. "I can get us into the office easily enough," he concluded. "If most of the staff are cleared out for the Senate session…"

"A diversion won't be a problem," Taseek smiled slyly.

"And provided that Leyla can determine that my sliced access won't set off any secondary alarms that may have been installed and aren't included in the building plans…?"

"Shouldn't be a problem either."

"Getting out- a simple maintenance order that was misfiled in the system should clear the outer office long enough to serve our purposes, if the Senate isn't still in session."

Karrde looked at Ghent in exasperation. "You can't truly expect any of this to go so smoothly."

"Still so paranoid, Karrde?"

Cem, Thrawn, and Nabrin quietly entered the conference room. The former smuggler sat back and smiled thinly, stroking his grey goatee thoughtfully. "Sending children to do your dirty work, Thrawn? No offense," he directed to Leyla, who shrugged wearily and exchanged a look with Taseek and Fyaru who were even younger than she. Then again, considering that chiss matured at a significantly faster rate, it probably wasn't a fair comparison.

Sliding smoothly into a seat, the chiss met Karrde's gaze evenly. "I utilize whatever resources are available to me," he acknowledged. "Besides- she volunteered."

"Sometimes I have to remind myself that I did as well," Karrde muttered beneath his breath, before turning his attention to Cem. "And you must be Jagged's brother. I confess, tracking you down five years ago was one of the more difficult tasks I have ever faced in my long and colorful career."

"My father hid me well; I'm actually mildly surprised you succeeded. No offense." He glanced at Leyla who tried to hide the grin. "Rest assured, Master Karrde, Master Ghent, matters are under control- and there are another two Jedi awaiting the team on Coruscant. Furthermore, Leyla has a good head on her shoulders; she will not take unnecessary risks, especially with a mission of this import."

It occurred to Leyla that, had he been there, Vulcor would have been disinclined to agree with Cem on the point; and that realization made her surprisingly melancholy. Scowling inwardly, she shook the thoughts away and rededicated her focus to the task at hand.

X-X-X-X


	14. Chapter 13

**A/N: **As a matter of interest- chapter 13 marks a sort of shift in part 2 here. The main part of the action of this story will be chapters 13-25; they take place over only a 4 day period or so. Chapters 26-30 will be a lengthy conclusion to the whole VoS(I & II) story, while chapter 31 and the epilogue are something of a conclusion to the chaotic monstrosity that this whole AU became (completely unintentionally when I started writing it as… wait for it… a **oneshot**__a year ago). So that's where we're headed.

**A/N 2: **Hopefully it shan't interfere with my 2-3 day updates, but I'm moving in a week and lots of roadtripping will be involved in the 2nd half of April. Apologies in advance if my updating schedule goes out of whack.

**Summer314 – **yes, make an account! Even if you don't write fanfic, they're nice for keeping favorite stories together in one place, and then we can PM lots of Thrawn-ly discussions. ;-)

**Chapter 13**

_Jedi Temple – Coruscant_

Jedi Master Luke Skywalker hurriedly entered the chamber which traditionally held the Masters' Council and took his seat in the circle. Taking a moment to note the usual faces, those who were absent stuck out a good bit more than those present- Kyp, Corran, and Octa; and Jaina had left before accepting her elevation of rank, but would have been welcome in attendance as well. Four missing Masters, all four of whom were with Booster Terrik aboard the _Errant Venture_. Perhaps the ship was in hyperspace and Jacen's message hadn't gotten through.

A fifth Master wasn't present, and that was Kenth Hamner. For understandable reasons, however, Master Hamner was currently meeting- arguing, more likely- with the military advisory council on which he served as Jedi liaison. Otherwise, the attendance was fairly standard- Jacen and Mara, Kyle Katarn, Saba Sebatyne, Tresina Lobi, Cilghal, and the latest addition to the council, the yuzzem Barratk'l… and Kam and Tionne Solusar were present via hologram from Ossus.

"Jacen," Luke looked to his nephew, "did you get any response from Jaina or the others?"

"No, Master," Jacen shook his head.

He sighed. "I really want their input for this. I guess it will have to wait." He paused and looked around; every eye was on him, alert to his solemn seriousness. "I've just received a message from Kenth. He was just given notice that the Defense Fleet is poised to initiate hostilities against a fleet comprised of seceded Bothan, Falleen, and Rodian forces- a fleet apparently commanded by Admiral Bwua'tu."

The absurdity of such a statement took a moment to sink in, before Mara managed to gasp, "Why? When? I thought they were still in talks with the Bothan Council about that!"

Pursing his lips, he responded succinctly, "To 'make a point.' And, according to Heol Girdun- any minute."

"The Galactic Alliance doesn't use firepower to 'make a point'," Tresina frowned deeply. "And it seems to me that the Jedi have been quite purposefully left out of the loop on the matter."

"This one agreez," Saba's tongue flickered out over her pebbly licks, the tip of her tail swooshing back and forth in annoyance. "Perhapz Chief Eszada doez not value these onez' input as Chief Belotab did."

Luke shook his head slowly. "It isn't that, Saba. Or if it is, it's at least _more _than that too. This plan was apparently known to only a small few, and most of them military. Kenth indicated that there was some connection to an increasing mobilization of a Sorosuub fleet out of Sullust, but Girdun wouldn't give him much more than that. Whatever is going on, Girdun, Admiral Niathal, and Chief Essada have been playing it very close- but Chief Essada has scheduled a special session of the Senate in a half-hour to coincide with the strike."

Expression dubious, Jacen leaned forward and frowned thoughtfully. "I hope she has something really good to say. This move- especially without prior knowledge, let alone consent of the Senate- will not endear too many people to her. I'm going."

Luke nodded. "I was going to suggest someone should. Liaise with Kenth while you're there and see if he hasn't learned anything useful since he and I last spoke." Jacen nodded and stood, sweeping quickly out of the Council chambers. "In the meantime," he grimaced, "I'm going to contact Booster Terrik and find out what's going on with the others."

X-X-X-X

_Senate Office Building_

Maintenance and service entrances tended to be among the worst guarded, regardless what building one was trying to enter discreetly. The government buildings of Coruscant tended to be no exception to the rule, and the lax security was only weakened by the sheer traffic going in and out of the building at a time like this, when hundreds of beings were crossing the plaza to enter the Senate chamber. Consequently, it was only too easy to pass quickly by the usual guards- Leyla and Ghent flashed their impressively forged identicards; Fyaru and Taseek, cloaked and hooded, slipped behind them and simply discouraged the guard's curiosity and request for their clearance with gentle prods in the Force.

Once they were inside, the two chiss clipped their own identicards to their cloaks and fell into step, dropping easily into the role- both real and imaginary- of body guards or assistants to the two harried humans. In her earpiece, Leyla heard one of the two behind her click a signal to Yilina and Damala, the two female chiss who had been in place on Coruscant for weeks now, informing them that they had gained entrance to the office building with no trouble.

"Level two-hundred forty," Leyla murmured to Ghent as they stepped inside a crowded turbolift. There was an eclectic mixture of beings inside the car, and none of them seemed inclined to show any interest to the four newcomers. Leyla suspected that part of their apathy was due to the efforts of Fyaru, who seemed to have a talent for such subtle mind tricks.

The ride upwards took some time, even starting at level two-hundred where they'd walked into the building; it seemed that someone was either squeezing past them to exit or shoving past them to cram on the crowded lift at every level en route. Several beings departed, however, at level two-hundred twenty-five, where a catwalk crossed over to the Senate chamber, and they covered the remaining fifteen floors with little incident.

Leyla took care to momentarily short out the holocams as they passed; it wouldn't hold up to scrutiny for obvious reasons, but it would not be immediately apparent what floor the four of them had exited on, if anyone found reason to be curious. Searching the whole security system for them would take hours, and by the time anyone enlisted a Jedi opinion regarding the Force-blur… they would be long gone and have what they'd come for.

Two corridors over from the suite of the Ithorian delegation, the three Jedi and Ghent slipped into a maintenance closet and deactivated a cleaning droid before it could register its surprise at their sudden appearance. From a deep pocket in his cloak, Ghent withdrew a datapad and spent a couple of minutes typing furiously away at it until he had succeeded in pulling up a comprehensive display of the section of floor that lay between them and their target office. "Looks like there are three still in the suite," he murmured. "No… hold on," he toggled the screen and it switched from a security cam mode to body heat sensors. "Four. There's still someone in the office opposite the one we want."

Leyla stared at him. "You're really rather scary, do you know that?"

"I wrote these security encrypts before you were born- practically before your _mother_ was born, for that matter," he muttered back distractedly. "The access corridor is clear on this side and… wait… yes, they're leaving."

"All four of them?" She peered at the small screen and saw two ithorians in formal green robes leading the way from the office. Two more, dressed in off-white, followed close behind. "One of them is probably the ambassador," she concluded. "Senior senator, ambassador, two aides- we should probably anticipate that at least one of the aides will be returning during the session, so we need to move now."

As they entered the outer office of the suite with embarrassing ease, Leyla had to remind herself that it was not a question of lax security so much as having the one man who _created_ the security measures using them underhandedly. Needless to say, Ghent's sliced access code got them into the suite, and he pointed to a short hallway on the left that ended with a secure doorway.

The security measures in place here with vastly more sophisticated, but Ghent's slicing suggested that it was just a matter of having a chain of codes instead of just one, and he input the first and got a green light. As he raised his finger to input the second, however, a tingle ran down Leyla's spine and she stayed his hand.

"Wait," she murmured, half-closing her eyes as she concentrated in the Force. Three seconds passed, four… five… "Now."

He put in the second code and the second light flashed green. They repeated the motions three more times, Leyla ticking off the seconds until the sense of alarm passed and, finally, with the fifth of the codes, there was a faint buzzing sound and the door slid open.

"We'll be able to lock that again, right?" Ghent just eyed her dully and she shrugged apologetically. "Sorry you didn't get to stage a diversion, Taseek."

The chiss smiled dangerously. "There is always our departure to think about."

"Let's try and keep things simple," Leyla muttered, looking around the deceptively innocuous office. It was tidy but cozy, was full of assorted forms of plant-life under synthetic growing devices that supplied light and water at predetermined intervals… and on each wall was a hologram of some beautiful spot of nature- Leyla was willing to bet that all were of Ithor.

A comm transceiver console occupied one corner of the office, and Ghent was already going to work, circling it and peering carefully at the various cables connected to it, but he was very careful not to actually touch anything. Then, ever-so-carefully, he separated one wire from the others and followed it. It did not disappear into the wall, as did the others, but snaked underneath the desk. Carefully going around and crouching down beneath the furniture, Ghent traced the line to where it ended in a connection cable… that emerged from a vine-like plant on the desk, effectively blending in to it. "Brilliant," he murmured. "He could connect his holopad or a comlink to the subspace transceiver, send a coded signal, or even a short burst of text, and someone sitting across the desk wouldn't even realize what he was doing."

"Just that he was wired to some plant-life," Fyaru commented drily. "Speaking of plant life, how could you grow up on a forsaken planet such as this? It's nothing but duracrete and transparisteel."

Leyla shot him a quieting look. "Later. Ghent? What can we learn from the transceiver without having the datapad or comlink he used to send messages?"

"Oh," Ghent blinked, "we can pull the messages themselves- if there _are _any- off the 'Net, and trace the signal frequencies he beamed them on."

"What about pulse signals? Can we trace those?" He glanced at her again. "Right- sorry. I'll just let you… yeah."

He was already furiously at work, crossing between the transceiver and the desk three times before connecting his datapad to the cable. Leyla felt a bubbling of hope beginning to rise in her chest. If they could truly follow the direct frequencies of each communication, it would not only tell them what planets were compromised, but it might also be able to lead them directly to the pathogen canister and whoever carried it.

Maybe it wouldn't end this, but it would be a huge step in the right direction. Now if only there was some indication to be found in the data Ghent pulled regarding a lab or storehouse where Ryoqim was stashing his Alpha Red variations…

"The first communiqué is a text-transmission," Ghent murmured. "Otherwise, they're mostly pulse signals."

"Get everything you can." She paused. "What's the text?" He shook his head, hardly glancing at it as he tapped away as his keypad. Leyla peered over his shoulder and read the brief transmission twice before it made any sense; then twice more before the meaning really began to hit her; and then once more to make sure that she wasn't crazy, even as she checked her chrono.

Taseek sensed her sudden disquiet. "Leyla?"

"I think we have a problem."

"Oh?"

"If I'm reading this correctly- and I think I am- then I think Polla Essada is going to be assassinated during the Senate session that started…" she glanced at her chrono again, "two minutes ago."

X-X-X-X

_Bothan Space_

Simulator runs were never perfect comparisons to what one would face in real life; more often than not, some surprise would pop up during a fight that hadn't been accounted for in all the training, and handling those surprises was what separated the great pilots, Jaina thought. The worst thing that could happen to a fighter pilot was to shut down during battle, to panic and lose control- it was a near guarantee that the mission would be that pilot's last.

No, simulator runs were never perfect, but this was on the wholly opposite end of the spectrum. After a week of hammering the operational strategy into the pilots' minds… this was simple. Suspiciously so. Sure, they'd known that the Stealths would be unlikely to draw fire before they fired their first ion pulse barrage at the shields of the six biggest ships- but even after they did, the big cruiser took a long time to get its turbolasers online, and the Gold wing was already halfway there from the staging point in the shadow of the largest moon of the Antakaria system before any snubfighters roared out to greet them.

There was total comm silence; that was part of their strategy. The StealthX craft were designed for total comm silence as it was, and it was generally in the interests of both wings if they made no detectable transmissions, left no concrete evidence to their identities. Of course, Jedi were known for flying Stealth craft, and they provided enough of a fighting advantage that altering them in any way would have been horribly counter-productive- but they'd had fun coming up with appropriately roguish, pirate-like paint jobs for the XJ6s and XJ7s of Jag's wing.

As the first of the snubfighters began to fall into the melee of the oncoming Gold Squadron, comm silence _was _broken, and Jaina nearly jerked the yoke in surprise as Gennevi's voice filled her ears. "Red squadron, Gold squadron, abort. Repeat, abort."

An accompanying sense of urgency from Corran Horn convinced Jaina that the order was a necessary one, even if she couldn't quite believe it yet. They'd succeeded in stripping the cruisers which comprised the biggest threats of their shields- that was it. A far cry from success, which involved driving the whole force to ground for weeks of repairs before they could be significantly operational again.

Gritting her teeth, Jaina broke her own silence. "Red, cover the retreat; stick with your wings."

She was halfway back to the moon- Thann tucked in behind her, Ben and Bazel off to their port side, and the corresponding one flight of Gold Squadron just ahead of them- when her starboard viewport filled with the shimmer of ships reverting from hyperspace. "Break," she snapped, and the eight of them broke by wing pairs to present less of a target to the approaching ships.

Not just approaching ships- two entire Command Fleets worth of ships. Her mouth went dry, but she quickly noted that either their presences had gone unnoticed thus far, or they simply didn't care. "Sneaky, get me transponder data of…" she trailed away, names already scrolling across the screen. _The _Ocean_- Reige's fleet. The Third._ And the second battle group… _The _Admiral Ackbar_. Niathal_.

Her fists clenched around her piloting yoke, but she contained her horrified fury until she was close enough to the moon- and to the small recovery shuttle which hovered on the dark side, masked by the mass of the body- to risk a tight-beam transmission. "We were supposed to have more time."

"I know, Red Leader," Gennevi's terse voice responded.

"The idea was to make a fight impossible, not to hand the Bothans to Reige on a platter." Gennevi didn't bother responding, and Jaina supposed she was conferring with Wedge and Corran. "Gold squadron should return to base."

A new voice broke in. "_Everyone_ should return to base." That was Corran. "There's nothing we can do here."

"We may well have condemned all of-"

"Their shields would have lasted two minutes at best," Gennevi cut back in tersely. "Be thankful the mission wasn't completed. Gold squadron, prepare jump."

Jag's tone was reluctant, but Jaina knew he would take care of his pilots. "Coordinates set."

"Go." The twelve ships winked into hyperspace, leaving behind the twelve of Red squadron and the shuttle. "Red Lead, are we going to have a problem?"

"No, Command."

"Prepare jump."

In all fairness, she did. She had Sneaky double-check and transmit the proper coordinates to return them to the _Errant Venture_, had the droid check that none of the other craft reported hyperdrive damage or failure. "Coordinates set." And in the few seconds between her acknowledgement and Gennevi's order, she clicked a command solely to Ben, and he responded with a single acknowledging click.

"Go." Ten ships disappeared. "Dammit, Lead." Gennevi's voice was laden with exasperation. "And _Five_," she snapped.

"I knew neither of you would go anywhere," Kyp returned, and Jaina could just see the winning smile on his face.

"And I'm not Lead anymore," Jaina put in. "Three is." She paused. "Good thing I didn't pick you, Five."

"I'm hurt."

"Would you all shut up?" Wedge finally came on the comm. "While you've been bickering, Reige has made his demand of Bwua'tu, who has refused to stand down."

With an ever-growing sense of horror- despite Gennevi's claim that their actions meant nothing in the long run for the doomed bothans- Jaina watched as the Third Fleet detached from the Supreme Fleet and advanced on the confederation armada.

X-X-X-X


	15. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

_Coruscant_

"That is _not_ what we are here for." Fyaru's tone carried a hint of warning, his red eyes flashing. "Our task is to ensure that Master Ghent gets in and out safely with any and all available useful data regarding our quarry. Thwarting plots against puppet politicians does not fall under the parameters of that assignment."

All eyes were on him. "Keep working," Leyla snapped at Ghent, and he hastily turned back to his datapad that was connected to the comm console. "Essada might be a puppet, but she's an unwitting one, and we're probably the only ones in a position to do anything about this."

"This is more important and is the priority. You will have to have faith in the Chief of State's guards, I'm afraid."

Two voices seemed to be battling one another in Leyla's mind, but it was backwards somehow. On one side, there was Vulcor and his reprimand to her on Eriadu._ You had a mission- a fairly simple one, at that. Rather than report back what you'd learned, with future recommendations for dealing with the matter, you took up your own agenda… _

But on the other side was Zekk. _I just don't want to see you sacrifice your peace of mind, your conscience, on behalf of Thrawn; I don't particularly want to see you do it for Cem, either._ Was this what he meant? He couldn't have known about the plot against Essada, but could he have fathomed that something might interfere with their primary task, that she would have to choose whether to attempt to protect a single innocent life while they worked to protect the lives of billions?

She swallowed. "The two of you will have no problem getting Ghent out. You know the plan. When you rendezvous with Yilina and Damala, tell them that-"

Fyaru let out a snarl and hissed, "_Humans_…" Taseek stood silently, gaze drifting back and forth between him and Leyla. "You stay here," Fyaru pointed a gloved finger at her. "Taseek and I will deal with the Senate chamber."

"But-"

"It is non-negotiable," Taseek murmured quietly, and Leyla looked at him in surprise. "You are mission leader, and we cannot permit you to place yourself at risk."

Ghent spoke warily from the desk. "There's an access code here- probably for one of the delegation pods, but there's really no way to tell which one."

Leyla stared around at the three of them for a long moment, before a sudden sense of impending urgency jolted her alert again. "Fine," she snapped, "fine. Ghent, can you find out which level the Bothan delegation used to occupy in the Senate chamber?"

He tapped a few keys. "Four-seven-one."

"You'll probably find your assassin there," Leyla concluded shortly, not entirely sure how she knew it, but she was as sure of it as she could be under the stressed circumstances. "Get in and out quietly, and then go to ground. We'll pick you up after we get Ghent back to the ship."

An alarm filled the office, and she looked around wildly, but Ghent explained, "It's the maintenance alert- it should evacuate the floor for ten minutes while everyone thinks droids do intense delousing. Highly toxic cleaning foam."

With a last disparaging look in her direction, Fyaru slipped out of the office, Taseek close behind him.

X-X-X-X

_Bothan Space_

Kyp's voice was low and urgent in her ear. "We can't stick around here." Her voice was stuck in her throat. This moment, here, now, was a turning point in a war she hadn't known existed, a war to which she still couldn't give a name. But it was about to turn into something real and irrevocable, and it was Vitor Reige and the Imperial Remnant who would face the wrath of the Bothan people after the events of today. And the divide in the galaxy that would ensue…

"We can't just sit here." She slapped the bulkhead angrily as beams of red and green energy began lancing out from the Bothan-led force. Snubfighters began dropping from the launch bays of the Third Fleet carriers and exchanging fire with the confederation fighter pilots. And the impressive bulk of the _Ocean_ dropped into position, turbolaser batteries arraying themselves for maximum damage…

And bolts of pale blue light lanced across the shield-less assault cruiser. Lights flashed and flickered in the bridge viewports as the systems short-circuited under the ion barrage. All along the offensive line, similar assaults were disabling the other heavy cruisers. The smaller ones who had not yet had their shields stripped by the Stealths put up a valiant fight, but they were no match for the Alliance capital ships which outgunned them easily.

Jaina stared as Sneaky relayed transponder and status data and, gradually, the ships of the confederation fell silent. Snubfighters darted skillfully around and strategically targeted the turbolaser emplacements, until even those flashes desisted.

Kyp's voice was back. "What just happened?"

"I… think Reige just finished what we came here for."

X-X-X-X

_The Ocean - Third Fleet Flagship_

"Admiral, transmission from Admiral Niathal."

Reige exchanged a knowing look with his flagship's captain. "Put it through," he directed evenly. The holoscreen shimmered, and the admiral's visage materialized. Her bulbous eyes were narrowed slightly. "Admiral," Reige acknowledged.

"Your orders were explicit, Admiral, to-"

"The threat has been neutralized, Admiral Niathal, I believe I executed my orders with care and precision."

"The threat is still very much a threat."

"The fleet is dead in space, Admiral."

Niathal's eyes flickered back and forth a few times. "Your orders were explicit," she repeated slowly.

"To carry them out would be tantamount to wholesale slaughter at this point."

"Are you refusing orders, Admiral Reige?"

Hands clasped behind his back, Reige straightened to his full height and met the Mon Calamari's eyes evenly. "No," he said softly. "I am refusing your right to issue them to me." She blinked quickly in consternation. "The Galactic Alliance is a sinking ship, Admiral. The Empire can no longer stand with you."

"Such issue is to be taken up with Chief of State Essada, Admiral Reige." He was stoically impassive. "Until such a time, you are treading thin waters and putting yourself at serious risk of court-martial."

A thin smile touched Reige's lips. "You misunderstand, Cha. As Imperial Head of State, I am hereby informing you of our immediate secession from the Galactic Alliance. I suggest you make your return to Coruscant to inform Chief Essada of the development."

"You forget," Niathal hissed, "you may be head of the Empire, but you command an Alliance military force. Your actions are tantamount to mutiny."

"Non-Imperial personnel will be released to return to Alliance space upon our arrival in Imperial space. In the meantime, Admiral Niathal… I suggest you quit Bothan Space immediately. You have no jurisdiction here."

"Nor do you," she snarled.

He sighed. "No," he admitted. "But I'm afraid you are severely outnumbered."

The confusion was evident on her face, despite the fact that Mon Cal expressions tended to be subtler, more subdued than a human's. Even as Reige stared her down though, his own sensor officers notified him of the newly arrived force, and he could see the Mon Calamari's sudden distraction as hers must have been doing the same. "What is this?" she asked, gravelly voice low and deadly.

X-X-X-X

"Chiss," Jaina whispered aloud to her empty cockpit.

Kyp's voice, quiet and subdued, was urgent in her ear. "Can we go now?"

"Yeah." But before the three vessels could coordinate their jump, Corran's X-wing detached from the docking hatch on the dorsal side of the shuttle, transponder data registering on Jaina's sensor readout as his systems came online. "What are you…?"

Corran responded tersely, even as his ship quickly moved out from the mass of the moon that was shielding their presence- and hopefully their transmissions- from the other ships in the area. "I'm going to Coruscant; I'll be in touch."

His craft vanished into hyperspace before either Jaina or Kyp could respond. Making a quick double-check with Kyp's StealthX, Jaina clicked her affirmative and, as soon as they were far enough out of the moon's shadow, the three craft disappeared as well. And this time, none of them were concerned with any of the others staying behind.

X-X-X-X

_Admiral Ackbar – Supreme Fleet Flagship_

Two sergeants generously escorted the attending evaluator of the Naval Oversight Committee to the bridge- apologizing profusely to the ithorian senator that he found himself attached to the fleet in such a brief but stressful encounter as that which they had just departed. The senator, in turn, assured them graciously that he was not inconvenienced, that all beings must be prepared to deal with such unplanned circumstances and work around them.

"Ah," Cha Niathal noted the three newcomers to the bridge with a disconcerted glance. "Senator Ryoqim- we will make orbit around Coruscant in ten standard hours."

Hands clasped in front of him, the tall and regal being bowed his t-shaped head. "Of course, Admiral Niathal. I thank you for keeping me informed. And perhaps, when you find a free moment, we might conclude our discussion from before this unpleasant turn of events…?"

"Of course." Her face was impassive. "You may wait in my private office, Senator."

When she entered said office an hour later- a grueling hour of preparing assorted reports to be delivered to the various councils and advisory groups pertaining to the GA Defense Force- Senator Ryoqim was sitting calmly, but his brooding attitude was palpable in the air. "Senator," she addressed him calmly, and only one who had a lifetime of familiarity with the Mon Calamari species would have noted the disdain in the address, "I confess, when you told me that today's engagement would be instrumental in seeing the next war between the Imperial Remnant and the rest of the galaxy, this _isn't_ what I thought you had in mind."

"It wasn't."

"For a moment, I thought you were going to tell me to fight it out between Reige and the Ascendancy force."

He laughed cruelly. "No, dear Admiral- while I expect many would believe, without second thought, that Vitor Reige would brutally put down a rebellion, I do not think many would believe you to be so stupid as to engage in such an unwinnable fight." His eyestalks swiveled in her direction. "Did you know of the new alliance between the Empire and the Chiss?"

"Of course not. And quite unlike the Chiss to assert themselves outside of their own corner of the galaxy. Though the last time they did so was, I believe, in defense of Bastion against several revolting moffs."

Ryoqim clenched a fist with a long-fingered hand. The Chiss- and such an unexpected move. What had possibly spurred the Imperial leadership to seek out such an alliance once more? Especially after the messy way in which the Ascendancy's ties to the Galactic Alliance had been broken, some nine years ago now… And what would inspire the Chiss to devote precious resources towards Reige's small personal rebellion?

It wasn't possible they knew anything… was it? It was a question well-worth considering; and in the meantime, he would have to pay extra attention to the meddlers as he figured out how to twist this surprising turn of events to his greatest benefit- and to the galaxy's greatest destruction.

X-X-X-X

_Coruscant – Senate Building_

Jacen stood unobtrusively against a wall in the outer corridor of the Senate Building, arms crossed over his chest as he watched the proceedings progressing in the inner chamber on a holoscreen, one of several that were broadcasting the session to any who were not able to be inside to see Essada's address live. As a Jedi, Jacen could have probably found himself a spot inside, but out here, he could more easily murmur back and forth with Master Hamner while he tried to make sense everything that had come to pass in just the past few minutes.

The older Master was very obviously already fed up, and his voice was like a low grumble. "Kept giving me some third degree about 'operational security' and 'intelligence protocols,' like I'm some new records-keeper for the committee and not the liaison to the whole Jedi order."

"Could there be some truth in the claims about Sullust and Sorosuub?"

Hamner shrugged resignedly. "_Some_ truth, sure. Enough to warrant an unprecedented preemptive strike in Bothan Space? Probably not by any standards the Jedi are willing to go by." The two men fell silent again and continued watching Essada's eloquent speech that was full of style and wholly lacking substance, suggesting to Jacen just how much the government was grasping at straws to justify this military action.

The beeping of a comlink broke the silence of the corridor. Reaching for the device, Hamner spoke quietly into it, frowned… and then turned away and walked some distance down the hallway, where his hearing was unimpeded by the sound from the holoscreen of Chief of State Essada addressing the Senate. Jacen's gaze followed him, attention divided as he kept one ear tuned on the holoscreen, but it wasn't long before the deadly change in the Master's emotions drew his full attention away from the proceedings. "Master Hamner?"

Walking stiffly back, he closed his eyes in deep thought for a moment before he shook his head. "I need to speak with Chief Essada. Jacen, comm your uncle and let him know that his presence will likely be requested very shortly in the executive offices."

Jacen already had his comlink out. "Can I tell him why?"

Hand poised above the door release that would admit him into the security staging room, Hamner grimaced and turned back to Jacen. "Tell him that Vitor Reige has not only withdrawn Imperial support from the Galactic Alliance; but he's mutinied with the Third Fleet and enlisted assistance from allies we didn't know he had, in order to drive Admiral Niathal from the engagement zone."

"Allies? What allies?"

"The Chiss."

He made it two steps into the Senate chamber when chaos erupted.

X-X-X-X

"_Humans and their… sickening sentimentality…" _

Leyla cringed as Fyaru's static-filled voice came over her earpiece in a low grumble, his Cheunh words barely decipherable over the sudden roar of noise. "What's going on?" she demanded. "What's happening?"

Taseek's voice was calmer, more measured than his partner's. "Essada is down."

"Dead?"

There was a slight pause while Leyla waited with bated breath. Ghent was still working frantically, sensing just as well as she that their time was going to be up soon. "No," Taseek finally responded. "Not yet, anyway. We were too late, but Fyaru deflected the shot. She's hit in the shoulder, maybe the neck."

"Then get out of there and lay low."

Taseek started to respond, but Fyaru's harsher tones cut him off. "We can't."

"What do you mean?"

"The manhunt that is about to ensue will quickly compromise your position- unless they have someone else to chase in a different direction."

Leyla gaped stupidly for a long moment. "What about the shooter?"

"There was none. An S-29 QuietSnipe rigged to a remote trigger mechanism. Was probably set up hours ago." He paused. "But you did get the pod right." There was the faintest note of approval in his voice that was wholly unsatisfying in its frustrating context. "It won't take them long to determine the trajectory from which she was shot. We need to move."

Taseek broke back in, tone low and urgent. "Might be too late already. Jedi."

"_What_?"

It was quiet then, and the sound of heavy breathing suggested to Leyla that the two chiss were on the move. Hoping they were still listening, she issued some last instructions. "Don't let yourselves be drawn into a fight with the Jedi. In that scenario, none of us win." She turned to Ghent. "How much longer do you need."

"Just a few minutes. The encrypts will take time, but I can do those from anywhere once I have the data copied and transferred. But if you want to disable the transmitter in a non-obvious fashion…"

"No," she snapped. "Leave everything exactly how you found it. He'll be suspicious enough after the assassination attempt failed."

X-X-X-X

Luke and Mara Skywalker entered the Senate building as the pandemonium was settling down slightly. Chief Essada had already been loaded into an emergency speeder and was even now being rushed to the government med center on the far side of the plaza. Security details were escorting senators out, checking identifications and possessions before clearing anyone to leave. A man in the black garb of the Galactic Alliance Guard approached them purposefully and stood tall. "Masters Skywalker, I'm Captain Lon Shevu."

_Shevu…_ the name was familiar. "You've worked with Jacen before?"

"Yes, sir." Now Luke remembered. Shevu had been Jacen's contact thirteen years ago when he'd gone on his crusade to hunt down the government infiltrators who were truly loyal to Red Hand, in the effort to find clues that would lead to the kidnapped Leyla. "If you'll follow me?"

He led them to a turbolift, and they shot several levels towards the top of the atrium. Winding along a curved corridor, he came to a heavily-guarded door, nodded to the GAG troopers who stood beside it, and led the two Jedi Masters into one of the delegation hover-pods of the Senate chamber. "This used to be the Bothan delegation," Shevu explained. "Empty for several weeks now… perfect place for a sniper to set up, once he managed to get inside somehow. We're still working on that one."

Taking them to the railing which overlooked the massive auditorium, he nodded to a third trooper who was overseeing the forensics droid which was attempting to collect data from an abandoned sniper rifle. "S-two-nine QuietSnipe," he informed them. "Silent and deadly; it's a wonder that Chief Essada is still alive."

Mara examined the weapon with interest, and it occurred to Luke a bit wryly that she'd probably used similar ones in her youth. Carefully avoiding making direct contact with the gun or with the forensics droid, she pointed to a device wired into the trigger housing. "What's this?"

The guard next to her shook his head. "We can't take the weapon apart until we collect any available DNA and fingerprint data."

"It looks like a remote activator," she frowned lightly and looked around the mostly empty hall. "I doubt your shooter is even on-planet anymore."

Shevu stepped forward. "Masters Solo and Hamner are pursuing the likely suspects. We had them pinned down on one of the upper levels…" he pressed a hand to his ear and looked down a moment. "They've got them," he corrected himself. "Master Solo requests your immediate presence."

It took them only a couple of minutes to reach the indicated room- and Jacen's insistence became immediately understandable as they stopped short in surprise, taking in the cloaked figures, arms locked in stun cuffs… red eyes blazing. Luke's brows shot to his hairline, and he exchanged a weary glance with Kenth Hamner. A simultaneous show of force against Niathal and assassination attempt on Essada… both by chiss…

Something here was very wrong.

Mara was already in detective mode. "What did you find on them?"

"Nothing," Jacen spread his hands. "Two crushed earpiece comm insets and comlinks, a destroyed datapad- we'll have to see what we can get off it later. No weapons."

Luke studied the two impassive beings for a moment, light frown playing across his face. "What are your names?" Silence. "Who sent you here?" He exchanged a glance with his wife, who shrugged. "Do you speak Basic?"

"They've not said a word since we got them," Jacen offered, then smiled wryly at his aunt and uncle. "Either of you pick up any Cheunh back when you were working with Formbi?"

Shaking his head slowly, Luke noted the subtle reaction from one of the two at the mention of the late Aristocra. "Are you of the Chaf family, perhaps?" he softly asked. There was still no answer, and no further reaction. Luke sighed. "We'll see if Leia and Han can bring Threepio by the temple."

Hamner grinned. "If that can't make someone talk, _nothing_ can."

"Too bad Jag isn't around," Jacen commented. "Or even Leyla, I think she retained some Cheunh, even after all these years."

"Yeah…" but Luke wasn't looking at his nephew. His eyes flitted again over the pair of chiss as the same sensation… of recognition… ever so briefly flickered in one of their minds. "Captain Shevu, I'd like to take the prisoners into Jedi custody for the time-being."

Jacen shot him a look. "Why? That's a tad unorthodox, isn't it?"

Luke's eyes didn't leave the two chiss, as he studied them in the Force. That feeling of recognition- both times- had been stamped out almost as quickly as it had appeared. Too quickly for standard mental control. "I have my reasons," he explained quietly. "Captain Shevu, once your preliminary investigation is complete, begin a sweep of all possible areas the prisoners might have had access to between here and the sight of the shooting- check small compartments where someone could hide a lightsaber."

Ignoring the sudden confusion at his instructions, he next addressed his nephew. "Jacen, I want you to-"

A sudden burst in the Force silenced him, and he easily picked up on the emotion that both chiss were broadcasting. _Get out… get out now…_

He hadn't even finished his instructions to Jacen, but his nephew didn't need to be told twice. Robes whirling around him, he was out the door in an instant- on the hunt for the two assassins' accomplice.

X-X-X-X

In morbid retrospect, Leyla supposed that Taseek got to make a diversion after all. In any case, there was certainly no issue with sneaking out past anyone still working in the outer office of the suite of Ithorian offices, considering the chaos that was happening over at the Senate building. It didn't even matter that, for obvious reasons, no one was being allowed _in_ to the building without special clearance- people were thronging the plaza, eager to be at the scene of the action, even though they'd have had an easier time following the happenings on the HoloNet News than in person.

But Fyaru's sudden surging presence and warning were like a shout in the Force, and with it came a new sensation that made her stomach twist with icy mortification. Someone was reaching out, probing for her, searching for the one he'd been calling out to… but that someone wasn't just anyone. In fact, if she had to pick a single person she did _not_ want hunting her down… her uncle would probably have been towards the top of that list.

"We have to move. _Now_."

"I'm almost done…" Ghent got out through gritted teeth as he carefully reset the locking mechanism on the door. Leyla tried to get a feel for how long they had before Jacen pinpointed her location. She knew he couldn't sense her presence, but it was almost as though he were homing in on the lack thereof instead, and had probably gathered more from Fyaru's warning than any of them would have liked- but what choice did he have? "Got it."

She was already halfway to the door to the corridor. "Come on." Reaching to her belt, she flipped on her comm device. "Damala, pick up on the roof, two minutes."

"_Copy_."

They passed few people and fortunately, given the events going on across the plaza, no one found their hurrying pace to be of any particular interest. Risking as much distraction as possible, Leyla gently nudged the minds of anyone they did pass by to forget them as soon as they were gone, while simultaneously blurring the security cams as they went by.

In the turbolift- mercifully, a faster ride, given the relative emptiness of the building now- Leyla pulled her comlink from her belt and removed the inset from her ear, wordlessly handing them over to Ghent when the car was empty. She then took her datapad and slid it into his pocket.

"What are you…?"

The door opened. "Come on." She led him down a corridor, took a left and then a quick right, wrenched open a locked door with a pull in the Force, and motioned him up a short ladder. Following quickly behind, she reached for her lightsaber reflexively as the speeder careened down to the open rooftop, but then sighed in relief at the impressive timing of Yilina and Damala. "Get back to the ship," she directed Ghent. They had left their shuttle- with assorted state of the art decryption technology- in a private docking berth three districts away, under well-forged identification and transponder data. Leyla's StealthX was also in a nearby bay; she'd flown it separately, after _The Hand_ carried it from base. "Do what you came here for."

"But what about-?"

Yilina, a cowl wrapped around her face, was already pulling Ghent into the dark and enclosed speeder. She gave Leyla an appraising look. "You have lost Fyaru and Taseek, Jedi?"

"They bought us some time." It was true- had they not been there to distract the security teams, they may have been forced to abandon Ryoqim's office twenty minutes earlier, easily. "I'm going to buy you more."

"Our instructions are to-"

"Go!" Leyla snarled, pulling the hood of her robe up over her head to try to block out the strong winds at this high elevation. "I did my part, now Ghent needs to do his. Get him back so he can decrypt those files, and get them uplinked back to base." She half-closed her eyes, sensed her uncle as he locked on to her location once more, now that she'd stopped running. "You have a minute."

The chiss scowled, though Leyla only read the expression in her red eyes. "The Jedi are coming?"

"He's pinpointed my location. If I go with you, he follows. It's as simple as that."

She nodded quickly. "May the Force be with you, Leyla Solo-Fel."

"And with you," Leyla murmured back, but the speeder was already peeling away from the rooftop even before Yilina could close the door. Catching one last glimpse of Ghent's startled and confused face, Leyla grimaced and weighed her options.

Running would get her nowhere. Not with thirty seconds until Jacen made it to the roof, they'd have to pass one another in the corridor. There were limited options of places to hide, and that was a foolish notion anyway for one trying to elude a Jedi. She could jump down a level to one of the upper office balconies… and probably get fried by a force-field for her troubles.

Or she could stay where she was.

With infuriatingly shaky hands, she wrapped her arms around herself. She let her eyes drift closed and concentrated on the Force flowing through her, tuned out the multitude of sight and sound distractions to be found on Coruscant, kilometers from the planetary surface.

She could sense every step, knew the exact moment when the door to the rooftop opened; and she could sense Jacen's heightened wariness and suspicion when he caught sight of her hooded, concealed figure just standing near the edge of the roof, alone, no longer running. He approached cautiously.

"You know," he spoke quietly when he was within a few meters of her, "making yourself a void in the Force, it becomes just as easy to sense as if you were broadcasting it… if you know what to look for." Maybe she'd have to think of it that way the next time she sparred with Zekk. "There's nowhere else to go," he came a few steps closer. "Maybe if you were from here, you'd realize that running up _never_ works on Coruscant."

She couldn't help the small chuckle- it put him even more on edge. "Thanks."

"Are there any others?"

"No." Her tone was flat, the sound of her voice largely lost in the strong winds that whipped around them at these high elevations.

"Are you going to come quietly? I don't want to hurt you."

Letting a light smile grace her lips, she started to turn around resignedly. "You won't."

She was wrong.

X-X-X-X


	16. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

_Coruscant_

The Masters of the Council- the same assortment who had gathered an hour earlier to discuss the upcoming and ultimately disastrous session of the Senate, minus Jacen- considered the silent and sullen chiss who sat in the center of the room, under the influence of an ysalamir frame, hands bound in stun cuffs. Neither had yet to say a word, and Luke only hoped that Jacen's hunt for their accomplice would yield some results, lest the GAG or the Coruscant Security Force- already out for blood after the vicious attack against the Chief of State- reclaim jurisdiction over the prisoners and resort to more… uncivilized interrogation techniques.

But for all the uselessness of the Force when dealing with the two, the influence of ysalamiri did little to weaken their resolve. It was disappointing, but unsurprising, considering the stoic nature of the species in general. He sighed sadly. "Whoever you're trying to protect, it's too late," he spoke in what he hoped was a soft and reassuring voice. For that matter, he still wasn't wholly convinced that the two spoke Basic. "The Alliance is already on the brink of conflict with your people, and your silence will do nothing to forestall open war."

They exchanged a glance. Subtle, but with traces of confusion. The only problem was, he couldn't be sure if it was due to his words or to their lack of understanding of what he said at all.

Mara shook her head and murmured quietly by his side. "We don't know that they have anything to do with the Ascendancy leadership. They could be part of a renegade faction like the one that targeted Jag and Soontir."

"What gripe could a renegade faction have with Polla Essada?" Kyle Katarn spoke by her other side. "The Alliance hasn't had formal relations with the Ascendancy for nine years now. And the timing, with the Chiss force showing up to bolster Reige's fleet against Niathal… unless you're suggesting that those ships were not officially sanctioned by the Ascendancy?"

Glancing unsurely at her husband, Mara bit her lip. "I'm not convinced that they shot Essada in the first place."

Katarn looked at her incredulously. "They were fleeing the scene. They were running from Jacen and Kenth."

"They missed. Essada isn't dead." Both men looked at her blankly. "They're Force-users- strange enough in and of itself. They're _chiss_. You think Force-using chiss are likely to be incompetent assassins and snipers?"

"Maybe this was about making a point."

"I don't think so."

The room turned almost in unison at the sound of Kenth Hamner's grim voice. Luke looked at him expectantly. "Well? Did Jacen find the third one?"

"You might say that."

Hamner stood aside and waited while slower footsteps approached. Luke first registered Jacen- face torn between anger, chagrin, and concern- holding on to the upper arm of his captive with one hand while the other hand pressed a bandage against a dark-haired head. Hand, head, and bandage were bloodied. A trail of blood ran down a pale forehead and across her cheek. She looked shaken and mildly dazed.

It was nothing to the paralyzing shock that Luke felt, that he vaguely registered coming from Mara as well as most of the other Masters in the room. Only Cilghal retained her wits and, ever the medical professional, was on her feet in a flash, pulling the injured girl into a chair and carefully probing at her wound.

Jacen relinquished Leyla into Cilghal's care and then turned immediately and departed the room. With a look at Mara and a fast glance at the two chiss- who were watching the scene with cool indifference- Luke rose and followed his nephew while Mara shook off her own shock and went to Cilghal and Leyla.

He didn't have to go far; Jacen was in the refresher, washing the blood from his hands. He didn't turn at the sound of the door opening, and continued his slow and methodical washing and drying; and when he was done, he leaned against the cool stone wall and took a steadying breath, visibly shaken.

"Jacen? What happened?"

"I… it was so fast," his nephew muttered. "I couldn't sense her, just like the two chiss. I didn't know it was her, I _couldn't _know it was her. And when I found her, she was standing on the edge of the roof, her cloak drawn up… and she started to turn around and I hit her. For all I knew, she was drawing a weapon, and I wasn't going to risk fighting when she was so close to the edge, when she might jump just to avoid being captured. Without a stun blaster…"

"The handle of your lightsaber was the next best option," Luke surmised, rubbing tiredly at his eyes. Jacen looked down. "You didn't do anything wrong."

"I just concussed my niece."

"And your niece was intentionally shielding her presence from you and is apparently in cohoots with two beings who may or may not have just attempted to assassinate the Chief of State. Maintain your perspective."

Jacen snorted lightly, but nodded and turned for the door. "I'm sure that angle will work with Jaina." He scowled. "If she ever gets back in touch with us."

When the reentered the Council chamber, Cilghal had already cleaned the wound and the blood from her face, and was bandaging the gash. The Mon Cal healer spared a glance for the two men and spoke in low, gravelly tones. "The wound is not serious; most head wounds bleed a lot, but it is not deep."

"Excellent." Jacen's voice was cold and calculating, though Luke could sense the relief washing through him. "Then you can answer a few questions."

Cilghal held up a flippered hand. "A scan and some rest might still be in order."

"Later," Jacen countered flatly. "I want to know what you were doing in the Senate office building, and I want to know what you're doing working with these two," he pointed to the two chiss, still sitting in the middle of the room under scrutiny.

For the first time though, one of them spoke- all the more strange, because, for the first time, the question was not directed at them. He gave a disparaging laugh and sneered. "We do not work with weakling _humans_."

Mara muttered, "So you _do _speak Basic; guess it answers that question."

"Fyaru, te'sil-ti." All eyes turned to Leyla, who spoke resignedly, eyes closed, hand over her eyes. "Es-k-a fin'or'i."

"And Leyla _has_ retained her Cheunh," Luke broke a lengthy silence drily.

The second chiss, who seemed somewhat less assertive than his companion, spoke hesitantly. "Ta-bin'era?"

"Chae."

Jacen scowled between the three of them but couldn't quite seem to decide where to focus his annoyance. "You've really outdone yourself, Leyla, I have to say," he snapped resentfully. "Drop off the grid for a few weeks and you turn up in the company of kidnappers and murderers? Is that going to become a habit?"

The second chiss got to his feet suddenly. "Is it a habit of the Jedi to strike and accuse first and ask questions later?" he hissed. His companion yanked him back to his seat as Leyla shot him a quelling look.

Luke found the quick outburst and exchange more informative than anything they'd yet learned from the three of them. It told him, first and foremost, that Leyla was considered to be in charge. Secondly, it strongly suggested that Mara's theory about the assassination attempt held more water than he'd thought. And third… it showed that the chiss had a concern for Leyla's wellbeing that went beyond whatever secrecy they were trying to maintain.

Interesting.

"I think," the Jedi Master addressed the Council slowly, "that we're not going to get any answers this way." He looked to Kenth, who had taken up a seat on the far side of the room. "Kenth, can you and Barratk'l secure… I'm sorry," he said wryly, "but if you still refuse to tell me your names…"

Again, they deferred to Leyla; subtly, almost unnoticeably, but neither responded until she nodded almost imperceptibly. "Fyaru."

"Taseek."

"Thank you. Kenth and Barratk'l, if you'd secure Fyaru and Taseek in the inner chambers, I think Mara, Jacen, and I would like a moment to speak with Leyla before we turn her over to Cilghal for further examination."

Everyone got to their feet. The chiss were beckoned forward and they followed Hamner grudgingly, but at least moved of their own accord. Katarn picked up one of the ysalamiri frames that had been resting in the center of the room, but Luke called to him before he could lift the other one. "Leave one of them here, Kyle."

The younger Master nodded and obeyed without question. Mara however, sitting between Leyla and Jacen, shot him a questioning glance; Luke paid her no mind and instead met Leyla's brown eyes, the same color of Jacen's. She was wary and pale. Luke addressed her evenly, forcing himself to be collected and calm. "We can only hold off the GAG for so long, Leyla; if we can't give them any answers, they _will_ come for Fyaru and Taseek and they _will_ interrogate them however they see fit. And when they come to collect them, we'll have no choice but to tell them about you too. So if you want to spare your… friends, partners, cohorts, whatever they are… that unpleasant experience- even if you just want to spare yourself," Leyla's eyes flashed briefly, "then you better start talking and you better start doing it soon."

She scowled down at the floor, but muttered quietly, "They didn't shoot her."

"I don't believe that they did," Luke assured her. "But right now, they're the only suspects in an assassination attempt that looks suspiciously like one-half of a plot out of the Chiss Ascendancy to destabilize the Galactic Alliance." That got her attention, and she looked up, frowning.

"She doesn't know," Jacen murmured. "About Reige."

Mara crouched down in front of her great-niece and sought out her eyes carefully. "Leyla, in near perfect concert with the assassination attempt, Cha Niathal ordered Vitor Reige to suppress a growing military force among many systems who recently seceded." Leyla said nothing, and Mara's eyes narrowed. "But you know that already. Don't you?"

"How could she know that?" Jacen asked, bewildered. "_We_ only just learned that a half-hour before it happened."

His aunt shook her head but continued. "Reige carried out his orders… not quite to Niathal's specifications," she phrased carefully, still unclear on what precisely had transpired; Hamner's brief comm call from the advisory council was their only source of information, and they probably would not have much more until the Supreme Fleet made orbit around Coruscant once more. "He in turn announced the Remnant's secession- and a force from the Ascendancy jumped in to force Niathal out."

Now Leyla was clearly surprised, leaving little doubt in Luke's mind that Mara was right, that she had already known about the impending attack; the attack that most of the Jedi felt was wholly unwarranted.

"So you see how this looks?" Mara pressed. "The Chiss act at once against the head of state and the supreme commander of the military… the Senate will be calling both acts of war within the hour, I guarantee you, when news of the military fiasco starts to spread." Silence. "Leyla?"

"Nothing I can say will appease the Senate."

Jacen was quickly getting frustrated again. "Then why don't you start with trying to appease your family?"

Leyla ignored him and spoke to the floor. "How long until the GAG demands custody of Fyaru and Taseek?"

Sighing, Jacen ran a hand through his hair anxiously. "A few hours… I might be able to put Shevu off overnight if Aunt Mara's right about the remote wired into the trigger housing."

They could all practically see the wheels turning in her head. It made Luke uneasy. "Fine," she decided. "You put the GAG off until morning; and at dawn, I'll give you answers."

Mara and Jacen both seemed like they wanted to argue, but Luke held up a hand. Smiling thinly, he said, "Fine. In the meantime, Cilghal is going to check out your head-"

"It's fine."

"-and you're going to go into a healing trance for a few hours-"

"That's really not-"

"-and while you're in a healing trance, Cilghal is going to sedate you so that you don't wake up and try to sneak off out of the med center."

A muscle in her jaw twitched. "Fine," she ground out.

"And just before the sedation wears off, you'll be moved into an ysalamir-equipped holding room." From the way she froze, Luke could tell that he'd called her hand. Whatever was going on, she had banked on using the Force, probably to communicate with someone else. "Make no mistake, Leyla," he told her quietly, a bit sadly, "until you can explain to me what is going on, you're in just as much trouble as Fyaru and Taseek. Probably more, when we get into contact with your mother."

As he and Mara watched Jacen lead her from the room, he could sense his wife's resolve weakening a little, and he put an arm comfortingly around her shoulders. "What's happened to her, Luke? She's… changed."

"I don't know," he shook his head slowly.

"Well, hopefully Kyp and Jaina and Jag can…" she trailed off. He glanced down at the top of her red head expectantly. "I think we have another problem."

"Hm?"

"If the Galactic Alliance gets into open conflict with the Ascendancy, that will apparently put it into conflict with the Remnant as well." He shook his head, not seeing where she was going with this. "Luke, not only are Jag's sister and parents on Bastion, but…"

He groaned. "Navi."

X-X-X-X

_Errant Venture_

At the end of a nerve-wracking two-hour hyperspace jump, Jaina set her StealthX down and found Jag waiting for her, looking like the twenty minutes between his arrival and hers may as well have been a day. "Where have you _been_?" he demanded. "When Ben showed up without you… for all I knew, you and Kyp turned around and got involved in the skirmish."

Kyp landed heavily on the duracrete and smiled cockily. "Your concern is endearing, Jag." He didn't linger though, and ducked his way between three rows of fighters to get to the shuttle that had put down just before him. Grabbing her husband's hand after giving him a hasty kiss on the cheek, Jaina pulled him along after her as she followed Kyp, looking anxious and worried.

The three of them ascended the ramp of the shuttle, whose two occupants were sitting and talking quietly in the cockpit. Jag looked around and cocked a brow. "Where's Horn?"

"Headed back to Coruscant," Jaina sat heavily in the seat behind Wedge, who swiveled around to face the middle of the cockpit. Gennevi did likewise, Kyp standing beside her seat with a hand resting on her shoulder.

Jag took up the fourth chair. "What's happened?"

Wedge shook his head slowly. "Reige wouldn't play Niathal's game. He crippled the whole confederation fleet-"

"Just like we were going to," Jaina supplied drily.

"And Niathal ordered him to destroy it. He refused." He paused. "And then he withdrew Imperial support from the Galactic Alliance. It looked like it might come to blows for a moment, until Reige pulled in some outside friends for support."

Jag stared. "Friends?" he repeated dully.

Jaina smiled at him sweetly. "Chiss."

"The alliance between the Empire and the Chiss dissolved a decade ago."

"Then it seems that Reige has been a busy boy indeed."

Gennevi frowned thoughtfully at Wedge. "When? He's been running the Third Fleet for the past couple of months. Could he have truly kept such an alliance off of Coruscant's radar for an extended period of time?"

No one had an answer to that.

"Gennevi," Jaina looked up at the older blonde woman, "how did you know to call us off?"

A deep and rough voice sounded from the hatch. "That was my doing." Booster Terrik stood there looking grim. "Got word from your brother," he looked pointedly at Jaina, "that a preemptive surprise strike was planned; the Masters were meeting and wanted the rest of you present. I told him you'd comm as soon as possible."

Kyp grinned abashedly. "Guess we need time to corroborate our story then, eh?"

"No," Booster shook his head, "you're going to want to get in touch with them. Now."

"Booster, what's wrong?" Wedge stood and began to make his way off of the small shuttle.

It was Iella who answered though, her presence masked by Booster's significantly larger stature. She spoke somberly. "The reports are just starting to make it onto the HoloNet; at the special Senate session, somebody shot Polla Essada with a mag-pellet sniper rifle. She's alive but in critical condition. There are two suspects in Jedi custody- and they're chiss."

"Chiss," Jag echoed. Jaina could sense the sudden angry coldness washing over him, felt her own stomach drop in turn as she began to piece together just what was so dire about the situation. "How long do we have?"

"The Senate is already debating a formal declaration of war," Iella told him softly. "And the comm lines are tied up, but we're waiting to get a transmission link to Soontir and Syal." Jaina was already pushing past the crowd of people gathered in and around the shuttle. "Jaina," Iella called after her, "there's something else."

She half-turned and snarled, "Whatever it is, it can wait."

"Jaina." Startled by the commanding authority in Booster's voice, she finally stopped and fully turned. "It's Leyla. She's turned up on Coruscant."

The flood of relief that washed through her was lessened by the gripping fear she now felt for her son, the annoyance she'd felt for Leyla for weeks now, but she sighed. "Thank the Force."

Booster shook his head slowly though. "Jaina, we got a message from Luke. Right now, only the Masters are aware of the situation, but… well…"

"What?" Kyp demanded.

"She's in Jedi custody as well."

X-X-X-X

"I want to talk to her."

"You can't."

"Jacen-!"

"Jaina," he spoke slowly and, he hoped, soothingly, "_you can't_. She's… asleep."

She stared dully at her brother's visage. "Asleep?" Behind her, Kyp was scowling and looked about as annoyed as she felt; Jag and Gennevi were across the room, side-by-side, leaning against the desk in Booster's office.

"She's in a healing trance and sedated."

Kyp bit back a curse and glowered daggers through the comm console. "A healing trance?" he demanded. "For what?"

"Gash to the head; very mild concussion, some blood loss."

"How did _that_ happen."

Her twin spoke evenly, tonelessly. "Her skull ran into the pommel of my lightsaber."

Jaina's mouth worked noiselessly for a moment before she managed, "_Jacen_!"

He held up a hand and closed his eyes wearily. "I know, I know. In my defense, I was trying to stop a fight that I figured would have ended with one of us plummeting a few kilometers to our death and… I didn't know it was her. Her face was concealed, hooded."

"Did you leave the Force at home today?" Kyp ground out.

"Jaina, Kyp… something's happened to her. She's changed. And all of them, her and the chiss… they've learned some trick to blending into the Force, essentially, they're nearly impossible to sense, if they don't want to be." Jaina exchanged a wary look with Kyp. "As soon as she's healed, Uncle Luke's putting her under ysalamiri."

Jag stood and quietly came up behind them. "You think they're working with others," he surmised quietly. Jacen nodded reluctantly. "But you don't think they had anything to do with the shooting of Essada?"

He considered a long moment, but finally shook his head. "Not anymore. I did, until…" he looked away in thought. "They're protecting something, all three of them, but Leyla won't talk to any of us, and the chiss only spoke to try to protect _her_. Speaking of which," he fumbled for his datapad and keyed a couple of commands, "Jag, can I quiz you on some Cheunh?"

"Sure."

"Excuse my pronunciation, I'm going off of memory here; _ta seel ti?"_

"Shut up." Jacen blinked in confusion, and Jag chuckled. "It's a very direct and rude order to be quiet. Shut up."

"Ah. _Eska fineri_?"

That one took Jag a minute, and he quietly considered close pronunciations. "Es-k-a fin'or'i, maybe… it's done, completed, finished."

"_Ta ben ira_?"

"An interrogative; are you okay, are you well… along those lines."

"_Chee_."

Jag smiled lightly. "Chae," he corrected. "Just yes, affirmative, okay." There was a pause. "That it?" Jacen nodded, tapping briefly at his datapad before sliding it back into his pocket. "The Jedi too noble to force Threepio on the chiss?"

Jacen snorted. "The chiss? They only speak to Leyla and she's too smart to use Cheunh around Threepio."

"I didn't realize Leyla had retained the language so well."

"That or she's picked it up again in recent weeks," Jacen pointed out drily. Looking around uncomfortably, he bit his lip and looked back at his twin sister. "Look, Jay- she's going to be awake in another couple of hours, but… honestly, I don't know if you want to talk to her tonight. She'll probably just make you angry. Angrier."

Jaina exchanged a torn look with Jag, but Kyp broke in quietly. "Let her decide." He shrugged. "Either way, I'll see her tomorrow." He smiled at Jaina's confusion. "You guys figure out what to do about Naviin, I'll handle the other problem child. I need to square some stuff away here, but I can leave early in the morning, be there by midday."

"In the meantime," Jacen said warningly, "Uncle Luke wants to talk to… well, to the Masters and you, Jaina, but I think he'd, er… _appreciate it_ if the assorted other schemers you've holed up on the _Venture_ could make an appearance."

Resigned looks were exchanged all around. This wasn't going to be pleasant.

X-X-X-X

_Wild Space – Planetoid 5249125_

Major Ra-ban tapped several controls and data began flowing across the display screen, both in raw format and with Ghent's decryption scheme applied in another column. "Data link established," the eickarie murmured under his breath. "And… the transmission link is up. Master Ghent?"

His round face, boyish even now, swam into focus, though his attention was torn between the screen and the computer at which he was still working as he uploaded streams of data. Beside him, one of the chiss- Damala- was working at a second computer console and murmuring quietly to herself. "We're here," Ghent affirmed. "Are you getting the information?"

"It's coming up now," Ra-ban assured him. "Can we call the mission a total success then?"

Damala answered the question stiltedly. "The objectives were achieved, yes, Major."

Vulcor didn't much like the sound of that. "But?" he demanded.

"Your Alliance, Master Jedi, is on the verge of war with the Ascendancy and, by proxy, the Empire."

He stared. "All because of your mission today?"

She pursed her purplish lips. "Not exactly. And maybe it wouldn't have mattered. But your Chief of State is barely alive after an attempt on her life- an attempt that has been blamed on Fyaru and Taseek, who arrived barely in time to divert the weapon's trajectory and save her life. They are in the hands of the Jedi, we believe."

"And Leyla?"

"Remained behind to ensure we were not followed."

"Do the Jedi have her too?"

Damala shrugged. "I do not know."

"Well don't you think-?"

"The Jedi have her," Ghent muttered without looking up, "don't worry. She's fine."

"How do you know that?"

"Comm traffic between the Jedi temple and the _Errant Venture_." He glanced up and flushed at Vulcor's incredulous and frustrated face. "I've been monitoring it on the side," he spoke defensively.

The Jedi shook his head. "Are you ever going to explain just how it is that you and Karrde have managed all of this espionage without getting caught?"

The older man shook his head, once again focusing on the task at hand on his computer. "That's Karrde's business with Thrawn," he murmured. "I just slice where I'm told and decrypt as I go along."

The eickarie was already sifting through the available data- mostly short pulse beams with the occasional text transmission, but that's not what he was looking for. With each communication there was an accompanying signal relay frequency that, when run through Ghent's decryption, corresponded to a specific set of galactic coordinates. The hologrid in the center of the display was already lighting up particular sectors as they were identified.

Ghent continued speaking, though he did not turn his attention back to Vulcor or Ra-ban. "I can use these same frequencies to beam a ghost pulse- it'll ping the transmitter but it will do so without registering on that end. Do that a few times and we should be able to utilize the transmitter like a homing device."

"Alright," Vulcor stared at the chart a minute and then looked at the major's list. "Thirteen planets…" he muttered. "What assets do we already have in place?"

"Two each on Bothawui, Sullust, Rodia, Falleen, Dac, Thyferra, and the team on Coruscant."

Damala broke in, sounding annoyed. "There are only two of us here too, now that the other three have been captured."

Vulcor nodded absently. "Where is _The Hand_?"

"Still near Kril'dor."

"Alright," he did a few fast calculations in his head. "We're going to need some time. It'll take a few days to get teams out as far as Ryloth and Bpfassh. We'll have to do this as one simultaneous, far-reaching operation, all at the same time. That way," he swallowed thickly, "if anyone fails, twelve other systems won't pay the penalty. Damala, you and Yilina hold where you are, and make sure that Ghent is unhindered in his work."

"What about the others?"

Vulcor looked at her blankly. "They're safer in Jedi hands than anywhere else right now. In any case… they can't be our priority. They did their job, now we have to do ours."

X-X-X-X


	17. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16**

_The Hand_

When the transmission link went dead, it was quiet around the table for a long minute. Vulcor's report had been equal parts reassuring and worrisome, and Cem shook his head slowly back and forth. "The Supreme Fleet will be dropping out of hyperspace around Coruscant within a few hours." Thrawn looked at him expectantly. "This plan never involved anyone being any the wiser about the chiss presence on Coruscant. If Ryoqim gets suspicious…"

"Then what, Captain?" Thrawn eyed him curiously. "So he knows that Fyaru and Taseek did not attempt to kill Chief Essada. At worst, he thinks that factions within the Ascendancy are on to him- not an unreasonable assumption, since he must know that Alpha Red originated among the Chiss. At best, he thinks it is a coincidence- that there _is_ a greater scheme afoot to supplant Galactic Alliance authority and destabilize it while the Empire reasserts its authority in the galaxy, the Chiss at its side."

Zekk frowned heavily. "I fail to see how _either_ of those scenarios is not potentially catastrophic."

The chiss smiled dangerously. "Torolis was attributed to an accident, Master Zekk. A devastating plague. The next use of the pathogen will have to be a decisive one, one meant to bring the galaxy to heel in its fear when the senator finally reveals himself for what he truly is."

"And he won't do that?"

"Certainly not. He has precisely what he wanted- chaos. And all the better for him if the Ascendancy bears the blame for an assassination attempt they had nothing to do with- it distracts them, in the unlikely event that they _are_ onto him, in his mind. No, he has chaos- the Alliance pitted against the Ascendancy, the Empire drawn in as well, the bothan confederation and Sorosuub at his bidding to go where they might cause the most damage- at this point, to unleash another vial of the pathogen would have only a negating effect on that success."

Tahlia looked at him disdainfully. "In other words, the galaxy would come together in light of another catastrophe like that which struck the bothans." Thrawn inclined his head once in agreement. "So the fact that the Alliance is on the verge of declaring war on your people is, what? Just another sacrifice to success? And Leyla, and Fyaru and Taseek?"

"The Empire would not have the wherewithal to stand up against Niathal without the Ascendancy by their side; such is the nature of the terms under which the Galactic Alliance was formed. It was pure logic that drew Reige to reforging that alliance, when he recognized the crumbling nature of the GA." He paused and frowned lightly. "The matter of those held in Jedi custody, however, deserves some consideration."

When he said no more on the subject, Cem nodded to Zekk and Tahlia, who exchanged a look and stood. "We'll get teams in place where they're needed, give them Ghent's frequency to stand by for further instructions." They left, and Thrawn and Cem were left alone in the conference room.

The commander-turned-captain crossed his arms over his chest and considered the chiss who was part mentor, part cohort… and part quiet partner who, Cem had long suspected, had more going on behind the rest of their backs than he could ever dream. "You seem… unfazed by impending hostilities."

"I confess, the pieces are coming together a little earlier than I would have liked. It is not necessarily catastrophic to our cause."

"Thrawn," Cem murmured quietly, "they'll be slaughtered. Surely you see that." The chiss was quiet and thoughtful. "The disarmament that the Empire underwent in the years after the Yuuzhan Vong invasion… many of their resources were distributed across the GA Defense Force. The Home Fleet is barely two-thirds the size of the Third, and the time it would take for the Ascendancy to mobilize more support- if they were even _willing_… and the moffs will fight tooth and nail to keep their sector defense fleets in their respective sectors until it's too late anyway."

In a rare display of open emotion, Thrawn pursed his lips and looked mildly grumpy. "Forty years ago, the moffs would never have had the option to forestall such an order."

"Forty years ago, the Empire was embroiled in a bitter war, Ysanne Isard was in charge, and _I_ was three years old."

"What do you propose?"

Cem sighed. "If winning the silent war against Ryoqim comes at the cost of galactic stability… potentially devastates the Remnant and the Ascendancy, who are guiltless in everything… how much have we really won?" Slumping heavily in his seat, he put his head in his hand. "If the Senate should approve open war… Reige and the Ascendancy cannot win. Not against the First, Second, Fourth, and Supreme Fleets, should they all be arrayed against them."

Thrawn nodded slowly, reluctantly. "We have time, Captain. Do not forget, the Senate is also distracted by figuring out the proper protocol for establishing a temporary leader for the duration of Essada's recovery. For now… we must look to the Jedi mission."

Rising, Cem shook off his momentary glumness and became the stoic and steady commander once more. "I will go see to the preparations."

"Would you locate Master Karrde and send him my way?"

X-X-X-X

_Bothan Space_

Admiral Vitor Reige, Commander Spa'rein, and Aristocra Tsel'oru'nuruodo watched from the bridge of the _Ocean_ as the crippled Bothan ships limped into hyperspace, on a trajectory in the general direction of Bothawui. In the several hours since the assault, the ships had slowly brought some key systems back online, but any attempts at raising the flagship of the armada had been ignored; either the comm systems were not of top priority, or Admiral Bwua'tu had little interest in communicating with those who had simultaneously devastated and saved his fleet.

Spa'rein looked around blankly at the crew of the Star Destroyer, face displaying no particular judgment on how he found the Imperial crew- or its leadership, for that matter. He, however, had few appreciative words for Galactic Alliance military structure in general. "If _that_," he nodded his head minutely towards the empty space beyond the viewport where Bwua'tu's ships had just disappeared, "was your last Supreme Commander and the rather pretentious Calamarian is your new one, I would say the Galactic Alliance Defense Force needs new criteria for selecting such leaders."

Reige continued to stare out the viewport. "Nek Bwua'tu has never behaved in such an irrational manner," he mused aloud. "His actions in recent months have been, by all accounts, quite anomalous."

"And your Admiral Niathal?"

"Perhaps she is not handling the stresses of her new position well."

The Aristocra spoke evenly. "She is erratic and uncontrolled- and you have now made an enemy of her."

"I warned you that such would likely be the case," Reige sighed. "This experience will have, hopefully, taught Chief Essada that she must keep her commanders on a tighter leash. The political nightmare that would have ensued…"

Aristocra Lorun eyed him curiously. "But the brunt of the backlash would have been borne by the Empire, first and foremost. Do you not think this engagement was specifically crafted in such a way, to insulate the Coruscant-based government from censure?"

"I don't know," Reige murmured darkly, "but I fully intend to address the matter when Polla Essada comes begging for the Empire to rescind its notice of secession. In the meantime, Commander, Aristocra-"

"Sir," Reige's aide appeared nearly silently at his elbow, as was his irritating wont at inopportune times, "you'll want to see this."

"Lieutenant, how many times-?"

"_Sir_," he insisted. "It's…" his eyes flickered over the two chiss, "important."

Frowning, Reige took the proffered datapad and scanned its contents quickly- and his look darkened further. "There is a problem?" Commander Spa'rein asked.

"You could say that," the admiral murmured as he went back to the top of the report and began reading more carefully the second time. "Polla Essada is in critical condition; she was shot while addressing a session of the Senate." He cocked a brow and looked oddly at Aristocra Lorun. "And the Ascendancy was supposedly behind the assassination attempt."

Spa'rein blinked once, slowly. "Impossible."

"Why's that?"

"If the Ascendancy had wanted her dead, she would be dead."

A chill ran down Reige's spine at the calm delivery of the morbid words. Such as it was though… he found little reason to doubt the commander's sincerity. Shaking his head though, he looked back down at the report. "It says two chiss were apprehended by Jedi and…" he reread a few paragraphs in confusion, confusion that was evident in his voice. "And that the two suspects were promptly taken into Jedi custody because they appear to be Force-users themselves."

"Lies and propaganda; the chiss have never paid credence to that mystical religion, Admiral Reige," Lorun informed him stiffly.

"Truth be told, the Empire doesn't think much of it either," Reige returned drily. "Though our exposure to the Jedi is gradually becoming more commonplace, with the Fel connection and-"

The Aristocra scoffed. "There are no Fel Jedi, Admiral. Our former ambassador's wife will always defer to her Solo side, her rebel side, and her daughter is no more a child of the Empire than she ever was a child of the Chiss."

In retrospect, several hours later… after the chiss had returned to their own ship, after the _Ocean_ had entered hyperspace to begin the lengthy journey back to Imperial space, where matters would hopefully be sorted out in due course with the Alliance… it was little wonder that the Fels' time in the Ascendancy had come to such an unpleasant end. If even the heads of the Ruling Families- at least the Nuruodo family- had such prejudice against a _child_… then he could only imagine the hostility that must have been imparted upon Jagged and Soontir Fel on that child's behalf, when the truth of her parentage came to be known.

In all honesty, it was a matter to which Reige had never had occasion to give any thought, and only morbid curiosity stemming from Lorun's harsh words prompted him to dig a bit into the matter in the news archives and Intelligence records. He had a vague understanding of the chiss view on bloodlines, and it wasn't wholly unfamiliar; there was a lot to be said in certain aspects of Imperial society for who one's family was, where their roots were. But as an only son to a single mother- an illegitimate son, whose youthful entreaties to his mother regarding the identity of his father had gone unanswered- Reige had never allowed such matters to bother him, and had clearly not suffered for his lack of connection.

The Solo-Fel girl was another matter altogether. She was connected six ways to Chazwa and back again, and Reige wasn't blind enough to think the chiss could have cared less that she wasn't a Fel by blood if they _hadn't_, in turn, found out that she was a Durron instead. And such a fact would have entitled the Empire to hold her in more reserve than the Ascendancy… save the simple fact that the Empire was disinclined to transfer decades-old grudges from father to child. Luke Skywalker and Leia Organa Solo were held in high esteem by _most_ of the present Imperial leadership… and there was little love lost for Darth Vader among that crowd, many of whom had been subjected to the terror of fearing for their lives under his brutal command at one point or another. Some of them had watched friends, comrades, die in one of his characteristic fits of temper.

Sensing that he was opening a box that he'd be hard-pressed to put the lid on in a timely manner, Reige nevertheless pulled up the Imperial Intelligence file on Jedi Master Kyp Durron. Early information was largely incomplete or unknown… nine years in the mines of Kessel, brother sent to Carida in forced conscription. Parents dead in the mines, Durron himself recovered, seemingly by chance- _or the Force_- by Han Solo and his late wookiee friend. Briefly imprisoned by Natasi Daala in the Maw, slated for execution, escaped… and promptly identified for Jedi training.

Luke Skywalker had been a young man at the time, but something Reige had learned early in his officership was that you never took an injured or traumatized man with some latent scores to settle and immediately hand him a deadly weapon and send him out fighting again. Maybe a Jedi would argue with the idea that the Force was a weapon at all- but the memories of millions who died on Carida argued the point quite effectively, in his opinion.

Following some unsatisfying supernatural quotations from Skywalker and then-Chief of State Mon Mothma, Durron's file was sporadic; resumed training, but the Empire was still at war with the New Republic in those days, so there was little knowledge of his whereabouts, and there'd never been any reason to retroactively supply the information.

In the years leading up to the Yuuzhan Vong war- known apprentice: Miko Reglia, died at the onset of the war. Formed an independent squadron that had largely tackled illegal smuggling enterprises in the mid and outer rims. Maintained the squadron during the war until Durron had completely dropped off the radar for a significant period of time. And just before that- known apprentice, practically negligible duration of time: Jaina Solo.

Some months after that, there was a note regarding his lengthy stay on the _Mon Mothma _"under Jedi supervision," and several vague remarks about his erratic and excessively violent behavior. So he'd gone off on a murderous rampage, Reige surmised easily enough; probably against Peace Brigade.

After that, his information was decidedly bland- Skywalker seemed to have tamed him considerably- until five years after the war when he'd been accused of high treason by General Wedge Antilles. The charges had been revoked following the defeat of the previously unknown 'Red Hand' conspiracy, and Durron's recovery of seven-year-old Leyla Solo-Fel who, four years later, was addended to be his daughter.

It was certainly the makings of a CelebNews HoloDrama. Antilles was Fel's uncle; it therefore stood to reason that Antilles had been unaware of Durron's relation to the girl when he'd demanded his head on a platter. A small part in the back of Reige's mind indulged in a brief bout of idle speculation, wondering whether Fel had even known that the girl was not his daughter.

That theory was quickly discounted when he pulled up the files on Leyla Solo-Fel and her mother. Born Leyla Solo in the middle of the war, she had not taken on the name Fel until Jaina Solo and Jagged Fel had married in the weeks after the victory at Coruscant. No one had bothered to question the reasoning behind it, but in retrospect it seemed somewhat methodically done. Solo had practically disappeared from sight for more than two years, resigning her post as squadron leader and spent several months scouting and supplying intel between Traest Kre'fey and the Chiss. Jagged Fel had soon after left the squadron aboard the _Mon Mothma_ as well and, it was later known, had taken her to Csilla. The only report of her leaving Chiss Space before the end of the war was for a knighting ceremony on Mon Calamari; and there had been no known indication that she'd left a three-month-old child behind with Fel. She was only nineteen at the time.

No, the child had been hidden beyond normal measures- and given the apparent confusion with Antilles five years after the war, Reige was banking pretty heavily that she'd been hidden from Durron as much… possibly more… as she'd been hidden from the Yuuzhan Vong.

There was little else about the girl- Imperial Intelligence had no particular interest in her, save that she was the relative of the Solos, the Fels, the Antilles and the Skywalkers… and yes, Durron. A brief note that she'd undertaken Jedi training, a small paragraph detailing the retroactive correction of paternity, closely followed by a summary of the year in which Fel had gone missing. Known Jedi Master: Kyp Durron, from the age of fifteen until she was formally knighted at eighteen. There was a brief inset that had been unlinked from the Corellian Security Force regarding an incident involving the girl in which she had briefly been held captive at the same time that Gavin Darklighter's fleet was dealing with the Confederation crisis.

The only noted outcome of the situation was the death of former-Moff Qadrik Croyel in the rescue operation to recover Solo-Fel. With a sigh, Reige pulled up Croyel's file and kept reading.

X-X-X-X

_Bastion_

Blue eyes met red in a silent battle of wills. Crossing his arms, Ashik stared down his quarry, but sensed already that he was going to lose the fight. Sure, he was a trained warrior, an able body-guard- a passable chef when it came to traditional chiss cuisine- but Ashlin Myntox was a Fel, and she knew how to be stubborn like one. "Your mother is busy," Ashik repeated- again. The child pouted and glared at him. "She left you a toy." He pointed with the toe of his black boot.

A stifled laugh met his ears, and he spared a look for Naviin. "You do realize she's just a baby, right?"

"She is already more than a year of age."

Naviin looked confused. "Right- she's a baby."

"Hm," Ashik considered him a moment, and then looked at Ashlin in consternation. "A chiss child of a year would already begin their earliest, rudimentary education."

"Well, a human of a year is pretty… well…" Ashlin finally seemed to accept that she wasn't going to see her mother right away and sat down heavily, sticking one thumb into her mouth as she reached for a stuffed animal. "Useless." He looked around nervously. "Don't tell Aunt Wyn I said that."

"I would not dream of it."

"Haven't you ever been around little kids before?"

Ashik finally relaxed a bit, now that the tension of the moment was broken and Ashlin no longer seemed poised on the edge of a temper tantrum. "You, when you were only a couple of months old," he conceded. "Needless to say, babysitting was not in my repertoire of duties at the time."

"Leyla?"

"Was three when I came to be in your father's employ." He considered, thinking back. "And was suspiciously self-sufficient."

The seven-year-old smiled vaguely and settled down in an oversized arm chair that dwarfed him comically. "So what would a chiss of _my_ age be doing?"

"Advanced mathematic and technical studies and early training in basic weaponry and hand-to-hand combat skills." Naviin blinked. "Give or take a year." He attempted a reassuring smile; it probably was ineffective at best. At worst, it would likely have sent Ashlin into another tantrum, had it been directed at her. "Trust me- the human way is better."

Hazel eyes calculating, Naviin looked at him closely. Ashik's experiences with the younger of the Fel children was limited; upon recovering Soontir and Jagged from captivity on Csaus, he'd accompanied Soontir and Syal to Corellia, while Jagged remained on Ossus with his wife, daughter, and newborn son. During the intervening years, he'd seen the boy on occasion, but never often enough to get to know him well, not nearly as well as he'd come to know Leyla during his long tenure working for her father. "Is that why you left the Chiss?"

"I did not leave the Chiss," he countered reasonably. "I went to Coruscant to work for the Ascendancy embassy, and later directly for your father who was a diplomatic liaison and later ambassador. Technically, I continued doing the duty which I had been assigned."

"But why didn't you go back?"

A low chuckle answered him, and Syal Antilles Fel stood in the doorway, shaking her head as she observed the stiff-postured chiss and her two grandchildren. "Quite the interrogation, Navi. You think you can spare the suspect for a few minutes?" She nodded towards Ashik and murmured, "Jagged would like to speak with you."

When he reached the office with the comm console across the apartment, Soontir and Wynssa were talking in low tones with Jagged who, Ashik assumed, was still aboard Booster Terrik's ship with his wife. Soontir motioned him over and got out of the way, Wynssa following close behind him. Before Ashik could ask what was going on, they had departed the room. "Ambassador," he acknowledged his longtime employer and friend in his usual formal manner.

The faint smile on Jag's face betrayed the number of times he'd ineffectually urged the chiss to cease with the titles. "Ashik, I won't waste time here- getting this connection was difficult enough. But Jaina and I must, again, ask a huge favor of you."

"What do you need?"

"I don't know how much of the current situation you've become aware of, but… things are going to get ugly, and soon. And Jaina and I are sort of pinned down here because, on one hand, there's a situation with Leyla on Coruscant and, on the other… the two of us barging into Imperial space is only going to start a political incident while tensions are mounting and, more importantly…"

"It'll make everyone- Imperial and Chiss- aware that your son is here." Jag nodded grimly. "I can bring him to Coruscant."

He shook his head immediately. "No; Jaina doesn't want him anywhere near Coruscant. We'd ask that you take him to Ossus, but none of the family are there anymore either, so…" he sighed. "We're asking that you stay put."

Ashik blinked twice. "You wish him to remain on Bastion?"

"He's safest with family. And, Ashik… something is happening to the Alliance. Should this heighten into all-out hostilities…" He looked away, troubled, and the chiss thought he understood. On the one hand, Jaina had certain obligation to the Alliance through her role as a Jedi Knight. On the other, Jagged's sister and brother-in-law lived on the Imperial homeworld, and their parents had never truly adopted the Galactic Alliance either. "Ashik, whatever happens with me and Jaina, I want you to keep Navi in sight, make sure he is safe."

"Of course."

"And should you get the first wind that the chiss are taking any interest in the family… any at all… you get him off-planet with whoever else will go with you."

"To go where?"

He swallowed. "Wherever you think is safest. We'll find you."

X-X-X-X


	18. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17**

_Coruscant_

The first few hours were boring; well, after the mild panic had lifted.

In her twenty years, Leyla had been kidnapped twice- both times, some form of sedating drug had been used to subdue her. When she was seven, a simple tranquilizing drug had been injected while she struggled against two men trying to wrest her from her bedroom in the middle of the night, while her mother fended off an attack from a cruel woman with a lightsaber. She only remembered those events with the use of the Force, a sort of heightened technique for recalling old and foggy memories. In a strange twist of irony, she'd learned the technique from Wrynn, the leader of the organization who had kidnapped her.

The second time, there was no chance whatsoever to remember being taken. A coma gas dispersal mechanism had been placed in her billet aboard the _Trucemaker_, Admiral Darklighter's flagship- some skilled comm-intel officer had sliced the entry codes, she found out later- and she'd been knocked thoroughly unconscious for several hours. When she woke, a debilitating concoction of spice, administered in precisely-timed doses had kept her far too weak and confused to even think about escape.

The relevance to those statistics, as Leyla pondered the only two situations in her life- prior to now- that had left her feeling wholly helpless, was that drugs were used to impair her both times. Ysalamiri had never been involved.

She knew her great-uncle was well-meaning, in his own way, but this was like some form of torture.

By all accounts, she had displayed a remarkable aptitude for touching the Force at an extremely early age. According to her parents, by the age of eighteen months, she clearly demonstrated an instinctive understanding of the fact that she had a connection with her mother that her (step)father did not. And she knew well enough that she had a raw power in the Force that had made her great-uncle mildly apprehensive about her training; understandable, given her father's unfortunate start with Jedi training and subsequent fall.

Whether that made any difference, she supposed she would never know. She was a Jedi like any other, and any other Jedi was constantly in tune with the Force, even passively. Being suddenly cut off from it- waking up, groggy, overcoming the effects of Cilghal's sedation, alone in an unfamiliar place- it was sort of like being cuffed, blindfolded, and suffocated all at once. She couldn't breathe, she couldn't think, and her efforts at meditating and centering her thoughts resulted in little more than her sitting on the small cot, wrapped in a blanket, legs drawn up to her chest, shaking.

That was probably why Jacen had made an appearance shortly thereafter, and the ease with which he passed into her Force-void bubble, not even batting an eye, only served to make her resentful of her uncle. She glared at him as he sat casually on the other end of the bed, watching her with a mixture of emotions flitting across his face: confusion, concern, suspicion… though he tried to keep the latter subdued. "How's your head?"

"Fine."

"I really am sorry about that." She didn't respond; he hardly had anything to apologize for. "I spoke with Jaina. And Kyp and Jag." Still, she was quiet. "Kyp is going to head back first thing in the morning. He should be here by midday. If you'd like to talk to any of them tonight…?"

She shook her head. She still needed to figure out what she was going to do, come morning, when Luke and Mara expected answers from her, answers that she just couldn't give, not until she knew that Ghent's information had been acted upon. On the other hand, letting Fyaru and Taseek fall into GAG custody was hardly a desirable outcome either.

"Is there anyone you _would_ like to talk to?"

Vulcor. Zekk or Tahlia. Cem. Hell, she'd even take Thrawn at this point. He could probably spring her from the temple with nothing more than a look at the art on the walls. "No."

Jacen sighed and shook his head. "Alright then. Is there anything I can get for you?" She stared incredulously. "Right, well…" he frowned, looked at the door, and looked back at her again. "Leyla, what's happened to you?"

"Just… give me some time. Please, Jacen?"

Shrugging with annoyance, he stood abruptly and went to the door. He lifted a hand to tap on it, to have the one standing guard outside let him out, but he paused and glanced back at her. "We completely forgot to ask earlier, in light of everything- is Vulcor on Coruscant?" She shook her head, not looking up at him. His tone turned irritable. "Is he even alive?"

Her eyes flashed. "Of course he is," she snapped.

He caught her eyes and stared at her coolly. "You seem to care little for much of anyone at the moment, save your two friends. You haven't even asked about your brother."

"He's safe on Bastion," she muttered.

"How do you know that?" Surprised at the deadly intensity in her uncle's voice, her eyes widened marginally. "How could you know where he is?" When she didn't answer, he swore under his breath and tapped harshly on the door; it slid open, and he ducked out in a flash. And with a sort of resounding heaviness, it shut again, leaving her to her solitude once more.

Thrawn's voice echoed in her head. _His deception had its purpose; as will your own._

Leyla grabbed the thin pillow off the narrow cot, held it to her face, and screamed into it until she was hoarse.

X-X-X-X

After she finished screaming was when the boredom settled in. After a few hours of nothing to do, save stare at the wall, she curled up and resigned herself to restless sleep. Her sense of time was shot. The healing trance had lasted, she thought, around four hours, meaning the sedative dose had likely kept her out for another hour or two. At the very least, she suspected it had been eight hours since Jacen had found her on the roof of the Senate offices when she drifted back into an uneasy doze.

She woke multiple times during the night. But it wasn't until the third or fourth time that some latent instinct told her that something was wrong. It wasn't the Force- clearly- but perhaps she'd heard something, something that registered in her unconscious mind… and then she heard it again, but it was just the sound of low voices rumbling on the other side of the door. One was raised though, in annoyance or confusion, perhaps, and Leyla rolled off the bed, instantly awake and alert.

Just as she was beginning to contemplate her woeful lack of defenses, however, the door slid open suddenly, and she flinched back from the bright light. She blinked, startled… and when her eyes focused, it did little to ease her confusion, though the alarm abated quickly. "Master Horn?"

Corran Horn stepped briskly into her little holding room and spared a distracted glance around the room before settling his eyes on her and looking her over quickly, as though checking on her physical condition. "Leyla," he said in a bright tone that didn't quite match the seriousness on his face, "my apologies for the late hour, but I only just got in and I promised your parents I would check up on you as soon as I arrived."

"I, uh…" she frowned and shook her head slightly at the steeled look in his eyes.

"Apprentice Holvic was reluctant to let me in without Master Skywalker's express permission," he nodded back towards the open door where the gran Jedi apprentice was watching them warily. "But I promised him I'd be brief."

The look on his face suggested quite clearly that she was supposed to in some way play along. Swallowing her utter confusion, she forced a pained smile on her face. "Thanks for coming," she said slowly. "I… ah… hope my parents aren't too concerned."

"Not at all," he responded jovially, reaching out to pat her shoulder comfortingly. And as he twisted his body, it masked a motion with his other arm, as he slowly withdrew a blaster from a holster beneath his tunic. Her eyes widened and she took an involuntary step backwards, wondering just how far the galaxy had turned upside down. Was Corran Horn going to shoot her? Was he somehow in on Ryoqim's conspiracy, had the ithorian figured them out? "Leyla," Corran caught her gaze, drew her eyes back up to his, "you know the biggest problem with ysalamiri-equipped holding cells?"

"No," she whispered.

He sighed. "You can't sense what's going on outside of it- but the guards can't sense what's happening _inside_ it." And before she could try to understand his meaning, he half-turned and sent a blue stun-bolt arcing into the apprentice, who crumpled to the floor with an exclamation on his lips. Holstering the blaster, Horn turned back to her and gave a curt laugh. "Force, girl, did you think I was going to shoot you?"

"You shot _him_!"

"Point. Come on."

"Wait-"

"Would you prefer to stay?" he asked pointedly. Shaking herself out of her stunned stupor, she hurriedly drew on her cloak and followed him out into the corridor, stepping gingerly over the fallen gran. The Force came flooding back to her and it was all she could do to subdue her excitement and not broadcast her emotions to every Jedi on the planet.

The Jedi Master- with some effort, given his own handicap in the Force- lifted the apprentice and laid him on the cot. "Sorry about that," Horn offered, "but if I'd tried to stun him outside the room, he'd have sensed it before I even drew the blaster. Anyway, they'll spend some time looking for him before they figure he's in there." He stepped back out of the small room and closed the door, and began walking quickly down the corridor.

She hurried along, trying to keep up. "But why-?"

He held up a hand. "Getting you out of the temple first. Questions second."

She skidded to a halt. "I can't leave without Fyaru and Taseek."

"I was afraid you'd say that. I don't think the same trick will work twice."

Shaking her head, she held out her hand expectantly. "It won't have to. Blaster." She could easily enough mask her presence in the Force long enough to get the drop on another tired apprentice.

"Wait," he placed a staying hand on her shoulder. "Leyla, you need to think this through."

"What time is it?" she asked, ignoring his entreaty.

"Nearly oh-four-hundred."

Doing some quick math, Leyla nodded and continued on her way. She had only two or three hours, she suspected, until the temple would begin going about its business for the day, and until Luke and Mara would be discovering her absence. "Then I suggest we hurry."

"_Leyla_," he implored her. "The Jedi alone know you are here; with the disappearance of the chiss, no amount of just doubt regarding their presence and the circumstances surrounding the shooting will make the Senate see reason. In running, they'll affirm their guilt, and the Galactic Alliance will be at war with the Ascendancy within days- maybe even within hours."

Nodding, she plucked the blaster from his hand- he stared at her stupidly- and double-checked to ensure it was still set for stun. "I know, Master Horn," she murmured, as she turned a corner and headed for the section of the inner temple where she suspected the two chiss were being held. "I'm quite counting on it."

X-X-X-X

None of them spoke a word as they exited the temple, though Fyaru continued to shoot suspicious glances at the Jedi Master who had sprung them and had yet to offer any explanation at all as to why he had done so. For now though, aside from sorely missing her lightsaber- Corran didn't know where the weapons were- Leyla was content to get somewhere to lie low, and ask questions later, though she was a little uncertain of how to go about the first part of the task.

As it turned out, she needn't have worried. Corran took them on a slightly roundabout path across a kilometer of pedwalks that were still thriving with activity even at this early hour, eventually winding up at the building where he shared an apartment with his wife Mirax, and their children Valin and Jysella, when they were on-planet. "Obviously you shouldn't linger," he said sardonically as he set some caf brewing, "but we have a few minutes for explanations."

"Why'd you come for me?" Leyla demanded instantly. "I know my parents had nothing to do with it."

"No," he acknowledged. "Truth be told- and crazy as it sounds- I got a message when I landed, forwarded from Booster." Leyla frowned- that did sound crazy. "He said he knows nothing about it, but that he'd received a call from-"

"Karrde," Leyla supplied. Okay, so maybe it wasn't all that crazy. "Alright, that adds up but… you just took him at his word?" she asked, perplexed. "When my own family is locking me up?"

Corran looked as though he were choosing his words very carefully. "I have no idea what this is about, Leyla. I certainly have no idea what connection the three of you have to Karrde, or to what happened yesterday, but I don't think you tried to kill Polla Essada." She shook her head. "Firstly, I've known Karrde a long time and I've never had reason to doubt his instincts. Secondly, the entire situation with the Senate yesterday- which I only heard about when I exited hyperspace two hours ago, mind you- makes absolutely no sense. Everyone knows that but, apparently, the Senate. Thirdly, having been one of five non-Fleet individuals present to witness the engagement in Bothan Space yesterday, I already had reason to suspect that any pretense for initiating hostilities against the Chiss," he nodded to Fyaru and Taseek, "would be based on half-truths at best. The Ascendancy acted to protect Reige's fleet and prevent a massacre of Bwua'tu's- they never acted with hostility towards Niathal."

He hesitated, then grinned. "And fourth- Booster now owes _me_ one, and I've been waiting some forty years to get the upper hand on him in anything."

"_In-laws_," Leyla muttered to the two chiss, who wore nearly identical expressions of skeptic calculation. "You realize of course, Master, that it won't take more than Holvic waking up for everyone to know that you got me out. Less than that, if you didn't tamper with the security cams and arrival logs."

"I do know that," he sighed. "So you better make this worth all the unpleasantness to follow." He eyed her expectantly, and she stared blankly back. "Well?"

Waving off Fyaru, who looked as though he were about to snarl at the Jedi Master, Leyla met his stare coolly. "Well what?" Corran blinked in surprise. "We appreciate your help. We have work to do now."

"It isn't that simple."

"It is," she countered flatly. "You said it yourself- the Alliance is going to be at war at any minute. Before that happens, I have to catch up on the situation and the make some preparations of my own."

"To do what?"

Looking down at the floor, she bit her lip. "Hopefully, to end it before the galaxy tears itself apart fighting over what none of them understand."

"You're going to… facilitate the start of a war… just to turn around and end it single-handedly?"

She flashed a wry smile. "It's in my blood, Master Horn. And no," she added after a moment of thought, "I'll have a little help."

"And what do I tell Master Skywalker? When he, you know- demands to know why I've betrayed the Jedi Order and the Galactic Alliance?"

Her mouth twisted in a sly grin. "You can tell him exactly what I'd planned to tell him this morning, in only a couple of hours."

"What's that?"

"You tell him that I ran into a clone of the late Grand Admiral Thrawn on the Hydian Way and am helping him prevent a catastrophic galactic crisis."

Corran cocked a brow and stared at her a minute before he just shook his head and laughed. "You had all night and _that's_ what you came up with?" She smiled coyly and shrugged nonchalantly. "Next time," he advised seriously, "and I speak to you as one who has dealt with all manner of exotic excuses and explanations- come up with something a _tad_ more believable."

X-X-X-X

_Errant Venture_

Blinking sleep from her eyes, Jaina met Kyp outside the billet she shared with Jag and glared balefully at him for disturbing her in the first place. His summons had been mental, waking her up with a sharp prodding in the Force, and she'd groggily told Jag to stay in bed while she dealt with the Jedi Master who was to be leaving in another hour for Coruscant.

It wasn't so much that it was early, as that they had been up late. After a long discussion with Jag, with some contribution by Wedge and Iella, they'd finally gotten the call through to Bastion to talk with Jag's parents and sister, Ashik, and of course with Naviin, who seemed blissfully unaware of the tension mounting between Bastion and Coruscant. Then had come the long and serious conference regarding the happenings in the past several hours both in the Senate session and in Bothan Space. Jaina, Jag, Kyp, Gennevi, Octa, Wedge, Iella, Mirax, and Booster had hunkered down until the early hours of the morning comparing notes and impressions from what they'd seen and heard- including the situation with Leyla.

And now it was only four hours later and Jaina was grumpy for yet another reason- as though having one child in custody, one out of reach, and impending war weren't enough. "What's wrong?"

He was already heading down the corridor, and she hurried to catch up to his long strides. "Your uncle wants to speak with us."

That snapped her slightly more awake. "Just us?"

"I think it's a Jedi thing."

They went most of the way in silence; partly due to the early hour and the sudden rising that were making Jaina's head muddled, partly because… she just didn't know what to say to Kyp most of the time anymore. Which, in some ways, was probably for the best; she would swear that Gennevi seemed more relaxed, the more distanced Jaina was mentally from her husband. Understandable, even if it hadn't been an issue between them since the first few days of their acquaintance really.

"You doing okay?"

She looked up in surprise just outside the comm center. "Hm?" Kyp was looking down at her expectantly, a hint of curiosity or mild concern in his eyes.

"It's been a rough few weeks," he shrugged. "It's been a rough few _hours_."

"I'm fine." He looked like he might have wanted to say something else, but she ducked around him and slapped the release panel to open the door to the comm center. Naturally, given the early hour on the ship that kept to Galactic Standard Time, it was silent and empty. Jaina went to the console, dark and on standby, and input her authorization code; a flashing light blinked on the control board, and she depressed the button. Moments later, her uncle's face materialized before them- and he did not look particularly thrilled to be speaking with them. Her heart sank. "Uncle Luke?"

His jaw seemed to clench a moment, betraying a surprising amount of anger or frustration- or both- for the Jedi Master who was usually the paradigm of calm patience. "Jaina, Kyp," he nodded to them. "I'm sorry for the early hour."

Kyp waved aside the apology. "Don't worry about it. What's going on? I'll be on my way in another hour." He paused. "Luke?"

"Don't bother," the older man sighed. "She's gone."

Jaina smacked the cold, hard wall and put her head in one hand, closing her eyes. "How?"

"Outside help; or rather, inside help, it had to have been someone familiar with the temple, and probably someone familiar to the apprentice who was assigned to keep watch on her. He was stunned, we're waiting for him to wake up, but Mara's poking around the security logs in the meantime."

"The chiss?"

Luke shook his head. "Same situation. Anyway, I don't suppose she's been in contact with either of you… be it through the comm or through the Force?" They both replied negatively. "Well, one loose end we know about is Vulcor, but Jacen seemed inclined to believe that Leyla was telling the truth when she said he wasn't on Coruscant."

"Doesn't mean he isn't now," Kyp countered reasonably.

Jaina shook her head though. "I just can't see it. Though at this point, I suppose I can't take much of anything for granted, can I?" She sighed. "Maybe we should come back anyway. Both of us."

Her uncle gave her a blank look and shrugged. "You could; you won't find her. Not if she doesn't want to be found. She very well may be off-planet again already."

Jaina's comlink beeped, and she ducked out of sight to answer the call. Kyp just looked helplessly at the older Master. "There's really nothing to go on, to track her down?"

"No; at least not until we know how she got out in the first place."

"Uncle Luke," Jaina popped back over as quickly as she'd left, "we're going to have to get back to you. Can you let us know if you learn anything new?"

He nodded and they quickly ended the transmission. Kyp shot Jaina a look. "What's up?"

"New transmission- a call for me, Wedge, and Gennevi." A brow rose curiously. "From Admiral Darklighter."

X-X-X-X


	19. Chapter 18

**A/N: **Stage one of the move = success; arrived in Oklahoma 3 hours ago. Now for stage 2: figuring out where we're living for the next 6 months. Woo.

**Summer314**- _I liked very much your description of Leyla's mood while in captivity, and her conversation with Jacen, although I don't agree with him that she doesn't care about her friends and family._

Haha, yeah, I think he's just a little resentful (and embarrassed) about the whole knocking her upside the head thing.

_I loved his conversation with Cem, and his analysis of the situation. They have an interesting relationship_

Thanks! I had a lot of fun with the two of them. I actually started trying to get a little more into Cem's head regarding the whole shadow child thing and Thrawn with a 'Diary challenge' fic on the Jedi Council Forum's fanfic page. I'd link to it, but they're down right now for a server transfer.

**Chapter 18**

_Coruscant_

It took Luke two minutes to get back to his office, where Mara was still poring over the security data. Another minute after that, as she swore under her breath and bit her lip in frustration, a distraction in the form of a knock at the door came, and he opened it after a quick probe in the Force. Corran Horn slipped in quietly and settled down in a seat next to Luke and opposite Mara, waiting for her to stop gritting her teeth and acknowledge his presence.

She finally did so in a sort of half-growl. "Horn. You're back."

"Mara. You're up early."

"Did you just arrive?" Luke asked distractedly, mind running through countless scenarios, each as unlikely as the next, as to what had become of their three missing captives.

Corran settled back, crossed his hands over his stomach, and spoke softly. "No; I arrived about four hours ago."

Mara frowned and looked back to the computer. "Really? It doesn't say anything about your X-wing docking in the hangar."

"No," he acknowledged quietly. "I had Whistler scramble the data. And then I went and let Leyla out of her ysalamir-cell."

The office was deathly silent for close to a minute while the two Skywalkers stared in blank incredulity at the third Jedi Master. Luke's expression gradually shifted into something like frustrated confusion, but Mara looked as though she were contemplating any number of methods in which to kill him, with especial preference for those which would cause him to die slowly and painfully as possible. "And I suppose," Mara ground out, "that you had a legitimate reason for doing so? Or at the very least, that you somehow planted a tracker on her?"

"I'm afraid not- to both questions." Her green eyes flashed, though Corran held up a hand to forestall her verbal lashing. "You may be interested to know, however, that the person who ultimately requested that I do so was your old friend Talon Karrde."

"Ultimately?"

He smiled tightly. "The message passed through an intermediary; I'm sure you can guess who, but I won't outright say it and get him in trouble."

Luke understood, but Booster Terrik was the least of his worries at the moment. "What possible connection could Karrde have with Leyla? Have they even met?"

"Once or twice in passing," Mara said slowly. "Not since she was… hm… nine or ten maybe? We got her Ar-Nine unit through Karrde," she shrugged.

Corran broke in to the conversation. "I think you're missing the larger point here." Mara cocked a brow. "Karrde knew she was here. He should never have had access to that information."

Luke and Mara exchanged an uneasy glance. "Sort of like how Leyla knew about Naviin being on Bastion with the Fels," Luke murmured.

The one-time CorSec agent shrugged. "He's getting information from somewhere. And Leyla didn't bat an eye when his name came up. Now," he fell into a deductive and thoughtful outloud reasoning, "from what we know of Karrde- he deals in information and goods, but he's not an instigator of trouble or conflict. So we can safely assume that _he_ was acting on someone else's orders in passing his message along to me. Whoever that someone else is, ten credits says that, whatever Leyla and those two chiss are doing on Coruscant, they're doing on his or her orders as well. You want to really know what's going on? Look for that person.

"Unfortunately," he continued, "setting her and her friends free- I tried to get her to leave them behind, but she wouldn't go for it- didn't encourage her to place any level of trust in me, so I can't tell you anything about what they're doing now. However- Leyla acknowledged that the Alliance appears to be on the brink of declaring war on the Ascendancy… and seems to think that she can somehow do something to stop it from happening, or to stop it before it escalates too drastically."

"Anything else, Inspector?" Mara's lips twisted wryly.

He pondered her a moment. "No… well, only this- she is protective of those two and they're unquestioningly loyal to her. I don't think this is any kind of a setup, I don't think either of them are playing the other."

Luke shook his head. "I'd wondered the same thing yesterday when Jacen brought her in but discounted the idea that she might be playing them somehow." He sighed and eyed the younger man in resigned frustration. "Well, Corran- what's done is done. Mara, you want to see if you can get hold of Karrde…?"

"Yeah," she bit, glaring once more at Corran, "though I wouldn't get your hopes up." She slipped carefully out of the office with a huff.

"You know," Luke sighed, "Leyla _had_ already agreed to start talking this morning."

Corran shook his head though. "I don't think so; you didn't particularly endear yourself to her by keeping her locked up and under ysalamiri for hours. She told me to tell you- and I quote- 'I ran into a clone of the late Grand Admiral Thrawn on the Hydian Way and am helping him prevent a catastrophic galactic crisis.' End quote." He stood and laughed. "Cheeky little thing; takes after her mother."

And he ducked out of the room as Mara had done, entirely oblivious to the blank look Luke was giving him, or to the sudden calculation going to work in the other Jedi Master's mind.

X-X-X-X

In a suprising display of efficiency for the Galactic Alliance Senate, they solved both the problem of the Chiss Ascendancy and the problem of their incapacitated Chief of State in one fell swoop, and they did it all by eleven hundred.

At ten-forty-five, Admiral Cha Niathal, Supreme Commander of the Galactic Alliance Defense Force, was sworn in as provisional Chief of State for the duration of Polla Essada's recovery. At ten-fifty-seven, the Galactic Alliance formally declared war on the Chiss Ascendancy.

And by noon, Galactic Standard Time, the Imperial Remnant announced its formal alliance with the Ascendancy and its intention to stand with the Chiss in the event of any hostilities initiated against them.

So it was- at twelve-oh-eight- that the Galactic Alliance found itself at war with the Empire as well.

X-X-X-X

Just before oh-one-hundred, Leyla, Fyaru, and Taseek finally maneuvered themselves back to the private berth where Ghent, Yilina, and Damala were hunkered down inside their sleekly outfitted shuttle. The three were, as expected, unsurprised to see them, and Damala was already updating them on the situation before they could take seats in the small lounge just off the galley in the back of the ship. "The last team will reach its target location- Ryloth- in approximately fifty hours. When all thirteen teams are in place- including us- we'll strike as one. Minimizes potential for catastrophic retaliation, in the event of a mishap."

Leyla scanned the datapad the chiss female produced and noted the other hostage planets, shaking her head. "How are we finding the vials on each planet?"

"Ghent has a way. I won't pretend I understand it," she grinned, baring teeth, "but we just let him do his work."

"And the Ascendancy?"

Damala looked up and exchanged a glance with Fyaru and Taseek. Yilina crossed her arms over her chest and scowled lightly. "The Galactic Alliance has declared its war on our people; the Empire has made known its intentions of defending our forces against unprovoked attacks. Naturally, your Admiral Niathal was not pleased."

"Well," Leyla murmured, "that's why the Defense Force doesn't get to unilaterally declare war…" Yilina and Damala both stared at her and she glanced up. "What?"

"The government and the military are, for all intents and purposes, a single entity now," Damala informed her stiffly. "Admiral Niathal has been sworn in as provisional Chief of State, until Essada makes a complete recovery."

She groaned. "I'm gone for one night…"

"That was your decision."

"Believe me," she drawled ruefully, "I didn't have much of a choice. When Fyaru and Taseek warned me to get Ghent out of the building, my uncle somehow used that to hone in on my presence and-"

Fyaru shot her a look, red eyes narrowed. "That man is your _uncle_?"

"Why do you think he was so mad?" she grinned cheekily. "And yes, he's my mother's twin brother."

"You have a strange and complex family," the chiss commented idly.

Leyla grimaced and had to agree. "It's got a bit of everything though," she smiled lopsidedly. "War heroes of the Rebellion; Jedi Knights; Imperial aces…"

"A colonel and ambassador of the Chiss Ascendancy?" Taseek supplied.

She shook her head though and spoke quietly, looking back down at her datapad that she wasn't really reading. "The Chiss disowned my family a long time ago- and they did it because of _me_." It wasn't something that she'd realized as a child of eleven and twelve, but rather something that had occurred to her as she got older, when she was finally able to separate the true events from the personal grief they had cost her family.

Surprisingly, it was the usually-grim Yilina who disagreed with her assessment. "You were an excuse, Jedi Solo-Fel; not a reason."

"Then why?"

She shrugged and tossed her dark hair over her shoulder. "There was no reason- why do you think they needed the excuse? Our people defied countless generations of tradition when they accepted your family from Nirauan into Csilla, into the government, into the military at their highest levels. At the time… we were all at war. But once war was removed from the picture… those who fought the violation of tradition had a voice again. It merely took nine years for that voice to grow strong enough to garner support among the Ruling Families and in Parliament…" she shrugged again. "And it would have died out, in time. But the sudden supposed deaths of, not just your father and grandfather, but of an Aristocra of a Ruling Family… well… it was something of an ominous sign." She stood and headed for the cockpit to check on Ghent's progress. "Anyway, it was as much General Fel's decision as anyone's; just because the Ascendancy seceded from the Alliance did not mean he could not reclaim his former position, upon returning from the dead."

Nonplussed, Leyla frowned. "Why should he have gone back? I think it was made abundantly clear that he was unwelcome on Csilla."

"On the contrary; once the conspirators were rooted out- and rest assured, the Syndic ensured that enough evidence remained behind to incriminate as many as he knew of- the Ruling Families authorized Aristocra Chaf'orm'bintrano to formally invite your father and grandfather back into the Ascendancy."

And she disappeared. For a long while, Leyla sat in silence, mulling over her words. Her intial reaction was to disagree with what Yilina said- the Fels were a duty-bound family, and she knew that her grandfather had never viewed his position within the Ascendancy as any less of a duty than his position in the Empire of the Hand, in its original form. And he _certainly_ wasn't the type to be cowed and scared away by something like a little kidnapping and assassination attempt.

Letting herself drift back eight years, she focused on memories that were still all-too-clear, all-too-painful, of the shocking moment when her stepfather came into the room where Zekk was trying to console her as her mother lay sick in the med center on Ossus. Her little brother had been born that night, born late due to a trick of the Force to ensure that the chiss who wanted the Fels dead couldn't know that he was Jag's son. But when Jag turned up alive, not having known that Jaina was only a few weeks pregnant when they last parted ways some ten months earlier, he'd assumed what everyone was meant to assume, who did not know the truth already- that she was having another child with Kyp.

And in the mess of the emotional turmoil that followed, as twelve-year-old Leyla grasped her father's assumption, tried to explain the truth… as Jag had finally accepted with horror what she was saying, and that he'd inadvertently caused Jaina to withdraw into a helpless state, fighting the unborn child that should have been born a month prior…

Even then, he'd struggled with a sense of duty, until Zekk had persuaded him to let it go.

_Jag… they don't need your help, your father and Ashik will understand, they're the ones who told you _not _to go back._

No, Yilina was telling the truth; Formbi _had_ asked Soontir to return to the Ascendancy, once they'd handled the matter of providing evidence against the group of conspirators who had helped Nabrin plot what they thought was an assassination and what was truly a life-saving kidnapping. And if Leyla understood correctly- Soontir had known that the Ruling Families would do so… perhaps it would have been dishonorable for them to do otherwise, in the circumstances… and he had turned them down, not for his own sake, but for his son's and his son's family.

And surely Cem and Ashik had realized the same thing, had realized that Jag's faultless sense of duty would have invariably cost all of them some measure of family peace, happiness, and security. And so they just nudged and persuaded to ensure that Jag never had cause to return to the Ascendancy where he'd have been forced to make that decision.

As she reflected on the ensuing years- watching Navi grow up, her parents living a peaceful life together on Ossus, spending previously unfathomable amounts of time together as a family even while she undertook her Jedi training, up until she left to apprentice herself to Kyp… she realized that there was a deeper debt she owed her grandfather, her uncle, and Ashik, than any of the rest of them knew.

X-X-X-X

_The Hand_

Sitting in the command chair on the bridge of the Star Destroyer- a seat that Cem ruefully thought he was growing a shade too accustomed to- he executed a thirty-degree swivel to face the comm display, where the transmission from base was being directed from the central communications station. Depressing a button on the arm of the chair, the screen materialized into the mildly irritable face of Vulcor, who was still on base with Major Ra-ban. "Jedi Vulcor," he acknowledged with a nod. "Are the strike teams progressing as planned?"

The younger man nodded sharply. "The teams already in place have had success in tracking the communications devices that Ryoqim's infiltrators are using. Unfortunately, it's a rather large assumption that each of those individuals _also_ has the dispersal canister of the pathogen on their person, but it's what we have."

"If it isn't on their person," Cem glanced across the bridge to where Thrawn and Nabrin were conversing in low tones, "it can't be far. So long as your teams can subdue the individuals, locating the mechanism should not be too terribly difficult. How long until our Jedi reach Bpfassh and Ryloth?"

"Forty hours and forty-two, respectively." The Jedi worked his jaw a moment and then sighed. "You didn't tell me you were staging a prison break."

That drew Cem's attention fully back to the screen, and he frowned lightly. "Come again?"

"Leyla and the two chiss." Cem stared blankly, and Vulcor huffed in disbelief, muttering something under his breath about interfering chiss. "They were sprung from the temple early this morning… several hours ago now… in a roundabout way by Karrde."

His dark brows shot towards his hairline. "Impressive, considering he's still here with us."

"Quite," the Jedi allowed stiffly. "Anyway, I have Leyla waiting to be patched through to you."

Cem nodded and Vulcor leaned away from the cam to hit a couple of buttons. The screen went to static for a moment while the connection beamed through several transceivers between Coruscant, base back in Wild Space, and back out to the isolated corner of deep space where _The Hand_ currently sat, quietly waiting.

At last, Leyla's familiar visage appeared. She looked exhausted but otherwise well. "Hey, Cem."

"Leyla- how many members of your family have you angered today?"

She grinned. "Three, at least. And probably most of the rest. Be sure to thank Karrde for me, will you?"

"Will do." He didn't see much point in clueing her into the fact that he'd had no knowledge of the underhanded scheme, much less authorized it. "Are things under control on your end?"

"Yilina and Damala are taking point on the pathogen on Coruscant. Ghent's almost got the location pinpointed. Fyaru and Taseek- also with some help from Ghent- are doing some careful surveillance of Ryoqim. Which just leaves me."

He cocked a brow. "And what are _you_ doing?"

Leyla bit her lip and glanced away. "I'm doing some math. I assume you've done it as well."

"We have."

"Cem, what kind of fleet do you have at your disposal?"

Sitting back, he let out a heavy breath and again glanced over towards Thrawn and Nabrin. The former caught his gaze and eyed him questioningly, but Cem shook his head marginally and looked back to his niece. "On this notice… enough of one to give Reige and the Ascendancy a fighting chance; not enough of one to ensure any sort of victory, by any means. And Niathal's working quickly to restrict communication lines into the Unknown Regions. She wants the Ascendancy as confused and out-of-the-loop as possible."

"What if I said you just needed to buy them some time, not win the whole battle for them?"

He considered her carefully for a full minute- the determination in the set of her jaw, the purpose behind her eyes. "Then I would say you should think about this very carefully- once we reveal ourselves, our greatest asset of secrecy is gone."

"Only to the Empire and the Chiss," she reminded him. "Niathal will just assume that you're another fleet scrambled out of the Ascendancy."

"Leyla, what are you scheming here?"

The nervousness in her eyes, in turn, made _him_ incredibly nervous. "It's… still in the planning phases," she admitted. "But I can get Ryoqim and I can get his operating base."

"You don't sound like you're brimming with confidence."

"There may be some… improvisation required in one stage." He just stared at her incredulously. "But let's put it this way, Cem- you don't really have a choice, do you? If the Alliance devastates the Ascendancy and the Remnant, that's it. Ryoqim has already won. The Ascendancy will forever be at war with Coruscant afterwards, and no level of trust will ever be established again among the three entities."

That was, unfortunately, about the way things looked on his end as well- and her words reflected his own feelings from his conversation the night prior with Thrawn. "You don't need to convince me of anything," he finally told her softly, "we've already resigned ourselves to getting involved." She nodded approvingly. "What do you need from me?"

"Are Zekk and Tahlia still with you?" Cem nodded. "I need them and the syndic standing by somewhere _away_ from the battle, able to clear out to an as-of-yet-unknown set of coordinates at any available moment. And I'll need their comm frequencies."

"Easy enough."

"I need you to keep the fighting away from Bastion." Her eyes closed a moment and she heaved a heavy sigh. "I've been a bad sister the past few months and the last thing I want is for Naviin to find himself in the midst of a chaotic planetary evacuation. Selfish, I know."

"But not a problem; the _crahsystor_ has been assessing possible ambush points along the Braxant Run- we'll drag them out and pin them down somewhere that's to _our_ advantage, and where there's no planetary collateral damage to be suffered."

The relief was visible on her face and palpable in her words. "Thank you, Cem. Lastly… an opportunity is going to present itelf- you'll know when-where you're going to convince Admiral Darklighter of the Fourth to side with Reige. And that one is very important."

"Why's that?"

"The reasons are multi-fold. First, the simple matter of numbers. Second, the psychological benefit to be gained with Admirals Klauskin and Ratobo when he turns on Niathal. Third…" her lip trembled a bit, but her voice was even, though it emerged in little more than a whisper, "my family… my parents, including Kyp and Gennevi, my cousin Ben… are going to be flying under Darklighter's command."

Cem closed his eyes and felt like he'd been punched in the gut. "How do you know?"

"Darklighter contacted the _Errant Venture_ several hours ago; Ghent says he used the highest military encrypt, a new one that he hasn't cracked yet. But I can put two and two together as well as anybody."

He sighed. "What makes you think Darklighter will be susceptible to the suggestion?"

"He's a good man, not just a good admiral. And he's unquestioningly loyal to the Galactic Alliance, first and foremost- not to Cha Niathal."

X-X-X-X

_Coruscant_

As soon as the transmission ended, Leyla suppressed a yawn and rubbed tiredly at her eyes. Her sleep the night prior had been uneasy and sporadic at best, concerned with the impending interrogation by her family and, more importantly, the impending conflict with the Ascendancy and the Remnant. Even beyond that, the sense of blind vulnerability that came with the ysalamiri exposure did not encourage her to relax enough to fall into a deep sleep even before Master Horn had sprung her, Fyaru, and Taseek at an absurdly early hour.

Ghent cracked an eye open from where he sat in the seat beside her, feet propped up on the console, hands behind his head as he leaned back resting his own eyes. He'd been up longer than she and without the added benefit of having the Force to supplement his energy supply. Nevertheless, he was getting by with sugar, caf, and power naps where he could fit them in. "You ought to sleep."

"Don't I know it," she sighed. "You'll let me know as soon as my call comes through?"

"Will do."

With another yawn, she pulled herself slowly to her feet and disappeared aft towards the two small cabins. Less than five minutes after she disappeared into one, Yilina emerged from the other and came forward to the cockpit to take up Leyla's abandoned chair. She sat tall and straight, stiff, taking a moment to be sure that they wouldn't be interrupted- Fyaru and Taseek were still staking out Ryoqim's position and Damala was doing some preliminary scouting of the target in control of the Alpha Red variant, testing Ghent's tracking system.

She murmured quietly to the longtime slicer. "You've had time to run it? Is the communiqué authentic?"

"Certainly seems to be- you think it's a trap?"

Hesitating a moment, she shot him a sidelong, wary glance. "If it is, I'm having trouble seeing it; and that, of course, is what makes me all the more nervous."

"Leyla might see the catch, if there is one."

She shook her head though. "No, if we tell her, she'll want to go herself. Or she'll decide it isn't worth anyone going."

Ghent looked skeptical. "And you think it is?"

"I think it's worth finding out what he wants."

He shrugged. "Be careful."

She glared daggers; Ghent was, as usual, entirely oblivious. "She's waiting to hear from this contact of hers?" The slicer nodded and shrugged. "Master Ghent, is this going to work?"

"Hey," he held up his hands defensively, "I just sift through the information, I don't try to analyze it in the process."

X-X-X-X


	20. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19**

_Coruscant_

After what seemed like hours of wheeling and dealing with wily politicians, reiterating the same arguments at least a half dozen times, Luke and Leia finally quit the Senate office building and strolled out into the chilly night air of the main plaza that separated it from the Jedi temple. Both twins were frustrated beyond measure after being told half the time that the assorted senators and advisers with whom they spoke could do little, without the input from provisional Chief Niathal, who was already en route with her fleet towards Imperial space. The other half of the time, those same senators and advisers politely but firmly explained why their reasoning made little difference.

So the weapon used to gun down Polla Essada had been remotely triggered; the two chiss were the only ones with access to the location from which it had been shot. That area should have been off-limits to everybody except building security and maintenance.

So the Jedi believed in the innocence of the two chiss who had been taken into custody; then why had they run from Masters Solo and Hamner? In any case, what did it matter now, since surely their flight from the temple proved they were up to _some_ form of no good, after all.

So the Ascendancy did not have any formal type of Jedi training program; even if the chiss Jedi had been trained elsewhere, they had acted in perfect concert with Reige's mutiny and the unexpected support- and unspoken threat- from the Chiss force. And that pointed to one thing- conspiracy.

So once they attacked Chiss forces, they would be hard-pressed to ever end hostilities with the Ascendancy afterwards; couldn't Master Skywalker and Jedi Organa Solo see that this was as much as the Remnant and Reige's presumption and mutiny as it was about the Chiss? Besides, they'd worked immediately, under Niathal's keen foresight, to secure the major communications hubs and block off communication to the Ascendancy as much as possible. Coordination would be a nightmare for sending reinforcements, and once Niathal carried out the retaliatory strike against the Chiss and forced the Remnant back into submission- at the very least, once Reige surrended the bulk of the Third Fleet he had absconded with- the GA forces would retreat back to Alliance space. And the Ascendancy's principles would not allow them to follow, once the immediate threat to their ally's territory was ended. They would attack anyone who entered Ascendancy space uninvited, would defend their Imperial allies… but they would not carry the war _to_ the Alliance.

Something told Luke that those principles might just be strained enough by the events to follow for the Ruling Families to change their minds about centuries' worth of military policy.

When they were nearly two-thirds the way across the plaza, Luke suddenly took Leia's arm at the elbow and gently turned her about sixty degrees to the right and kept walking towards the southern edge of the square where a monument devoted to the lives lost in the Yuuzhan Vong conquest of the planet had been erected. It was late, but this was Coruscant- few areas were ever truly vacated at any time of day. The crowd was sparse, but enough of one to blend in to, and given the darkness, he had little concern for being recognized too readily.

Except by the one person he expected to be looking for him.

"Luke?" Leia touched a hand to his forearm and peered up at him curiously. "Where are we going?"

"We just have a quick stop," he assured her distractedly as he stretched out in the Force towards the dozen or so beings who were visiting the monument. "I'm hoping to meet somebody here shortly."

"This is very cloak-and-dagger for a Jedi Master."

"I was hoping this would encourage a little more…" he trailed off and turned his head slightly to the left; on the far side, a figure was standing beneath the obelisk, reading some of the inscriptions that had been left in various languages to represent the countless beings of thousands of species who had died during the fall of the planet, "…trust."

It was the slightest touch in the Force, but it was enough for Luke, and he worked his way around towards the near-invisible figure on the far side, whose dark cloak blended into the dark granite of the statue. Leia followed cluelessly.

When they got much closer, he could see that the figure was veiled, which suggested to him that it was probably chiss; and female, by the height and figure. He stopped five meters away and let her come the rest of the way to them, which she did slowly, continuing her perusal of the obelisk as she did so, as though she were any other tourist paying her respects to the dead. When she was within a meter of Luke and Leia, she murmured softly, "I see no Cheunh."

"I do not know if there was a chiss population on Coruscant, prior to the formation of the Galactic Alliance."

"Oh," she mused, "I'm sure there were some." She half-turned and let the veil slip down to reveal her glowing eyes. Leia was startled, but maintained her poise by Luke's side. "Even our kind have _some_ who grow weary of isolation, who desire to see more of the galaxy; who leave the Ascendancy in search of adventure."

"Some like yourself?"

She stiffened slightly before answering cryptically. "I did not seek adventure, it sought me."

"For your special talents?" Her silence was affirming. "You have a skill that none of my Jedi have learned," he remarked casually. "You all do."

"It was necessary."

"I wonder who taught you," he commented idly.

The chiss stood still a moment before chuckling drily. "Your companion has her suspicions."

Leia started. Luke cocked his head curiously as he observed the young female. "But you won't go so far as to confirm or deny those suspicions," he surmised, and again she was quiet. "Very well; that's not why we're here, in any case."

"Why are we here, Master Skywalker?"

He smiled wryly. "_I_ am here because I was hoping to speak with my great-niece; apparently she did not trust my motivations."

"She did not know of the message you left encrypted in the temple's comm system. I told Ghent to allow me to handle matters." She paused. "Rest assured, Jedi Solo-Fel is well."

"And safe?"

The chiss hesitated. "For the moment." Leia opened her mouth but she was cut off. "Soon, none of us are to be particularly secure, Master Skywalker, Jedi Organa Solo."

Luke sighed. "Can I at least ask- if you won't tell me your immediate goals- who is it you're working for? We're on the brink of a war here- on behalf of which side do you act?"

She blinked up at him, red eyes bright but solemn. "For the very galaxy itself, Master Skywalker. Some conflict transcends political lines; though those political prejudices may be used to exacerbate the conflict." He was quiet and contemplative. "Was there anything else?"

"Yes," he started out of his reverie and reached into his cloak, produced a small satchel. "Here." She took it curiously and opened the drawstring pouch. "A Jedi should never be without his or her lightsaber."

When she took stock of the items present, she looked up at him once more, expression slightly changed. "You included Fyaru and Taseek's blades." Luke nodded. "They will appreciate it."

"So long as they don't make me regret it."

X-X-X-X

_Trucemaker – Fourth Fleet Flagship_

Captain Wesbin, commander of Admiral Darklighter's flagship, hesitated a moment before tapping on the door of the admiral's inner office. The mood across the ship and throughout the fleet was subdued, to say the least, and Admiral Darklighter was no exception. The speed with which matters had deteriorated between Niathal, Reige, and then the Chiss was astounding and Wesbin knew that his commander was still putting some effort into trying to better understand all that had transpired in those tumultuous hours leading up to the Senate's declaration of war- and Niathal's swearing in as provisional head of state.

Perhaps that was why he had spent much of the jump in quiet contemplation in his office. In any case, Wesbin had anticipated him on the bridge several minutes prior and finally decided to simply request further instructions directly. Darklighter seemed to expect him though, because moments after he tapped on the door, the admiral called for him to enter.

If he was expecting a quietly contemplative man to be waiting for him- which, he supposed, he sort of was- he was quite mistaken. The admiral had assorted datacards piled haphazardly on his desk and he was staring at the screen of his datapad while muttering curses under his breath and tapping frustratedly at the screen. A miniature hologram was set up on his desk, projecting a blue spherical engagement zone and, as the admiral tapped on the screen, small blips of different colors would wink in or out of existence, or would shift around in the image.

"Ah- sir?"

Darklighter glanced up and smiled distantly before looking back to his project at hand. "Captain? You have a report?"

"We drop out of hyperspace in…" he consulted his chrono, "thirteen minutes, twelve seconds." The admiral nodded and Wesbin waited, but no further instructions came. "Admiral? Do you have further orders?"

"Yes, Captain," he murmured. "Shortly upon reversion, we'll be making contact with two fighter squadrons and an accompanying tactical support shuttle. You will direct all ships to docking bay Y-Six-X."

He blinked. "But, sir, that's…"

"Being refitted, I know; I checked, they'll have enough space for all the craft down there."

"Yes, sir."

"After they've landed and we've made the jump back to lightspeed, send Lieutenant Tre'sin to escort General Antilles, Colonel Lassiter, and Jedi Solo-Fel to my office."

He stared a moment. "General Antilles, sir?"

Darklighter looked up and met his gaze evenly. "And Colonel Lassiter, and Jedi Solo-Fel. Thank you, Captain."

When the three indicated individuals finally made their way to Gavin Darklighter's office, it was significantly tidier than it had been a half hour prior; the datacards had, in any case, been resorted and put away, and he'd disengaged the hologram projection.

He exchanged a friendly handshake with Wedge, a sardonic half-salute with Gennevi, and a grim nod with Jaina, who seemed easily the most stressed by far of the three. The four of them retreated to his private study and, despite being alone and secure, spoke in hushed voices for close to an hour

X-X-X-X

_Coruscant_

When Yilina returned to the ship the following morning, Leyla was awake and irate. "Where have you _been_?" she demanded. "I wake up and you're gone, Ghent won't say anything, and you don't come back for _hours_?"

The chiss eyed her coolly and handed over the silver cylinder that was her lightsaber handle. Leyla stared at it dumbly a moment before closing her hand around it and eyeing it carefully, verifying that it was, indeed the lightsaber she had constructed at the age of fifteen. "How did you…?"

"Your great-uncle seems to feel that the one thing that could worry him more than not knowing where you are and what you are doing is the idea that you are unarmed while doing so."

"But how…?" she glanced around to where Ghent was sitting in the copilot's chair, head bent pointedly low as he perused a datapad that he had undoubtedly already read countless times. "Ghent!" He cringed and looked up at her guiltily. Leyla sighed. "How did he do it?"

The man shrugged as though it were no matter. "He just filed a message, under an old encrypt, in the server but didn't send it to anyone."

"A message for you?" The slicer and the chiss exchanged a glance that was all-too-telling. "A message for me?"

Yilina cut off her interrogation, lifting a hand to forestall further argument. "You are not in a position to afford distractions, Jedi Solo-Fel. I am expendable; you are not."

"I don't work like that."

A slight quirk of her lips that was _almost _a smile made Yilina look slightly less severe. "I know you do not; if you did, a witless but relatively blameless politician would be dead right now and we would be… how do you say it?... 'twiddling our thumbs,' waiting for an opportunity to present itself."

"I started a war."

"No," the chiss smiled, predator-like, "you simply got the process started faster than it would have, otherwise; do you truly imagine that this conflict was not coming anyway? And if not between the Alliance and the Ascendancy, then between the Alliance and the Empire which, might I remind you, provoked Niathal all on its own. No," she shook her head, "you have expedited the process _and_ formulated the plan to win the whole game. Therefore- you are not expendable. And I knew you would argue, so I did not tell you."

After a moment in which she tried to formulate a reasonable argument to all of that, she just relented with a sigh and slumped into one of the passenger chairs behind the empty pilot's seat, which Yilina quickly took over and turned to face her and Ghent. "What about Fyaru and Taseek?"

"I delivered their weapons before returning; thus the delayed arrival. Fyaru is to return soon; when he does, I will join Damala and you will likely not see either of us again until it is finished here on Coruscant. If you have anything that needs to be taken care of before tomorrow…"

Leyla nodded. "I'll need to borrow Ghent to do some work with the comm system in my Stealth."

"Make it fast."

X-X-X-X

_Trucemaker_

Gennevi stayed behind after Wedge and Jaina retreated back to the lower deck where Red and Gold squadrons were setting up a cramped temporary base of operations for the next twenty-four odd hours until the Fourth Fleet dropped out of hyperspace near Bandomeer to receive final instructions from Niathal before taking the last few hours of the journey up the Braxant Run into Imperial Space.

It was all very surreal to Darklighter, who had first joined Rogue squadron at the age of sixteen to fight for the newly-formed New Republic against the oppressive Empire. That was forty years ago. Nearly thirty years ago, open hostilities between the two factions had ended; twenty years ago, they had joined together to create the Galactic Alliance, upon realizing that some threats could not be withstood by a galaxy divided.

And now, somehow, they found themselves hours away from the next galactic civil war; this time, one encompassing a largely unknown region of space and a people of whom the rest of the galaxy had been entirely ignorant during the prior one. And since Darklighter had heard about the incident in Bothan Space, he'd tried to understand where Vitor Reige was coming from. Sure, the Galactic Alliance was at its weakest now than ever before since the tumultuous days of the Yuuzhan Vong war. It was the perfect time to strike, if his goal was to reassert Imperial authority.

But he_ wasn't_ reasserting Imperial authority- he had not withdrawn Imperial support until Niathal had, in unequivocal terms, given him an order that he, in good faith, could not carry out. Of course, the word through Alliance channels said something else- but Wedge had recorded and decrypted the transmission between Reige and Niathal, and after listening to it, Darklighter was left with the very troubling question: What would _he_ have done in Reige's place?

"So how many protocols are you violating by even having the twenty-six of us aboard right now?"

"Eh," he wavered his hand, "difficult to say; volunteer squadrons are hardly unrecognized, we just haven't seen any of them for about eighteen years. And there are existing protocols for Jedi involvement, as you well know."

She nodded. He was, of course, referring to nearly four years prior when Kyp Durron and his daughter Leyla had spent a month training with her squadron aboard this very ship. The month had gone perfectly well, despite the awkward back-and-forth as she and Kyp developed a mutual interest in one another, yet he continued to insist that they not become involved. The _end_ of the month, however, had seen the dramatic events of Leyla being drugged and taken from the ship, her recovery by Vulcor, the destruction of Centerpoint, and the crumbling of the Corellian Confederation after Jaina and Kyp blackmailed Sal-Solo into staying away from the position of Five Worlds Prime Minister.

"I keep forgetting you're married," he finally sighed after a minute's silence. "Colonel _Lassiter_. What do I even call you now?"

Gennevi grinned. "I think, for the purposes of simplicity, you can keep calling me 'Lassiter.' Too many Fels and Durrons roaming about as it is."

A brow rose curiously. "Speaking of Fels and Durrons- I notice that someone is conspicuously absent from this little gathering. Leyla?"

"Ah," she wondered what level of half-truth would be appropriate here; as far as she knew, no one outside of the Masters' Council had ever known about Leyla's involvement with the chiss on Coruscant. "She was already engaged in her own project long before you contacted me. Her return has been… delayed." He looked skeptical and she shrugged helplessly. "You know how kids are."

He barked a laugh. "Yes, actually, I do, having adopted two children and fathered another three. Do _you_ know how kids are?"

"Gavin, I spent years working with kids in their late teens and early twenties who were drawn in by the glory of fighter-piloting- and by the glory of independence from their homes and families. I think Leyla just hit that phase a little later than some."

"Well, it's certainly in her blood." He considered. "Leyla seems like she has her head on straight."

_If only you knew…_ Gennevi smiled wryly. "I think Kyp is routinely amazed to have such a level-headed young woman for a daughter." It was true enough, at least before events in recent days.

"Hm," he leaned back and shook his head, eyes closed, weariness pouring off of him. "Gennevi, I'm getting too old for this."

"No, _I'm_ getting too old for this," she countered. "You've been too old for it."

"Really?"

After a moment, she relented and sighed. "No, Gavin," she stood and headed for the door, "you're still the best. And right now, the only one in the whole hierarchy of Command who I trust or have the remotest bit of faith in anymore."

X-X-X-X


	21. Chapter 20

**A/N**: Sorry for the late update; spent the last two days in the car driving from Oklahoma to Ohio (with cats!). Woo. Here's a short chapter before I pass out-

**Chapter 20**

_Admiral Ackbar - Imperial Space_

"Admiral, gravity well!" She'd only made it three steps onto the bridge and was being flooded by updates, requests for orders, and alarm sirens blaring. "We've been pulled out early."

"The Second?" she demanded. "Is Admiral Klauskin still with us?"

The same bridge officer responded sharply. "Yes ma'am, ninety-seven degrees port."

"Someone get me a chart and tell me where we are; sensor station, what have we got?"

"Single fleet, irregular formation. Unrecognized transponder designations. Interdictor at twelve degrees, two hundred klicks."

Someone else jumped into the conversation. "They're Chiss, they've got the irregular design."

Niathal frowned; something didn't add up. It made sense for Reige to want to keep the fighting away from Bastion, since capturing the capital would be the surest way for the Galactic Alliance to force the Remnant to bow to their demands. But why send the Ascendancy's forces to pin them down first, rather than coming themselves. Unless the chiss had some strange sense of honor about who declared war on who… in any case, it mattered little, it was far too small a force to have a standing chance against both the Supreme Fleet and the bulk of the Second that were the first to advance on Imperial space; the First wouldn't be far behind, and the Fourth another handful of hours after that.

Or perhaps…

"Admiral, more ships incoming- vector suggests Bastion as point of origin."

_There_ were the Imperials. The Imperials with _her_ Third Fleet.

"Get me a line to the _Ocean_ as quickly as possible."

The communications crew went to work, and the Mon Cal admiral clenched a fist with her rubbery hand. This was not Reige's fight, he could surrender his mutinied forces and stand down- and be dealt with later in a military tribunal, Imperial and diplomatic standing be damned. But as long as he insisted on standing beside these interfering, scheming aliens from the Unknown Regions…

She had no choice but to consider him an enemy and a threat.

X-X-X-X

_The Hand_

There was a discernible period where the Supreme and Second Fleets clearly fought to recover their bearings after the unexpected way in which they were yanked from hyperspace. Cem glanced wryly over at Thrawn. "Two fleets against us, Reige, Nhylatich, and Aristocra Tsel'oru'nuruodo- that seems pretty winnable. Well," he reconsidered, "until the First and Fourth show up that is. What do we know of their statuses?"

"We can expect Admiral Ratobo with the First in a matter of two, perhaps three hours. The Fourth, at last check, was being recalled from the Vivenda Sector- seven, eight hours at least." He paused and tilted his head pensively as he started out over the distant assembled fleets who were, even now, plotting the best way to destroy them. "What will Darklighter do though?" Thrawn murmured to himself. "He could well be the tipping point of this engagement."

"Especially if the allegiances of my brother and sister-in-law, and their squadrons, are tied to his own."

The chiss glanced over at Cem. "You are in a difficult position right now, Captain Fel. The possibility of pitting your forces against your own family…"

"It is not the first time a Fel has faced that unpleasant reality," Cem countered evenly. "When the very galaxy as we know it is endangered, however… we do what we must." He turned to stare out the viewport at the amassing GA fleets. "The question is," he murmured, "do we do it in vain?"

"Faith, Master Fel; trust in others to do their parts."

Hazel eyes flickered over to meet red ones. "A great deal still stands on chance. We haven't heard from Leyla in over thirty hours now."

"She will come through."

An ensign at the sensor station stood and called, "Sir! Ships emerging from hyperspace on a point two-six entry vector."

"That'll be Reige," Cem said softly. "Nhylatich and the Ascendancy advance fleet won't be far behind. What do you think?" he asked sardonically. "Do we hail them, or just hope that they realize we're on their side when we don't start shooting at them?"

Thrawn smiled in a remarkably predator-like way. "Actually, if I'm not much mistaken, we'll do neither."

"Oh?"

"Sir," the same sensor officer called, "we're being hailed by the _Ocean_."

Cem shot Thrawn a look that clearly told him to quell the smugly knowing expression on his face. "What do they want?"

"To speak with you, sir."

Frowning heavily, Cem looked between the ensign and Thrawn twice. "Me?"

The chiss ensign was understandably confused by his commander's puzzlement; but he, of course, did not know of the complex dynamic of his commander's history as an anonymous shadow-child. And for the _Ocean_ to request him by name…

"What did you do?" Cem asked Thrawn steadily as they strode towards the communications station.

"Did you not wonder why I insisted all those months ago that you disappear without a word to either your family or to your fleet?"

That gave the captain pause, and he turned to regard the clone, comprehension dawning on his face. "You knew Reige would put the pieces together, especially after my father turned up. You were _counting_ on my family investigating my disappearance."

"True; though I cannot speak for Admiral Reige and was placing my trust in my old colleague, rather, to ensure that his successor was on the right path."

The sergeant stationed at the communications console stood and made way for his commander to accept the incoming transmission. Cem tapped the control board twice and the visage of Admiral Vitor Reige materialized, compressed into two-dimensional format, on the screen at his eye-level. "Admiral," Cem acknowledged.

Reige had a faint smile on his lips as he nodded. "I'm afraid you have me at a disadvantage, Master Fel. You departed Imperial service as a commander, but I suspect you have since risen in the ranks?"

"Captain will suffice," Cem returned wryly. "Sir, you are greatly outnumbered; even with the additions of the Home Fleet and the Advance Guard, you will be hard-pressed to hold your own against the combined firepower of the GA Defense Fleet."

"And your force, Captain Fel? Where do you stand in this conflict?"

Cem smiled tightly. "_This_ conflict is a mere proxy to our true war, Admiral. But it is with you that we stand."

"I am relieved to hear it. Now if you'll excuse me," he added drily, "proper decorum obliges me to open channels with Cha regarding a diplomatic solution to our differences."

Nodding, Cem held up a hand. "It is an admirable endeavor, but if you have not already guessed, Admiral Niathal does not act of her own volition in these events. Your entreaties will come to naught, but I urge you to open the discussion regardless; it is time now that will determine all of our fates today, Admiral."

"How much of it do you need?"

"About eight hours," Cem said grimly. "It is my belief that, once those eight hours are up, we will possess a bargaining chip to forestall the present hostilities, if not end them outright. In the meantime, however… this will come to a fight, Admiral."

"So be it. Reige out."

X-X-X-X

_The Ocean_

"Cha. I understand you've acquired an even more impressive title since our last acquaintance."

The Mon Cal was not amused. Her bulbous eyes flickered in annoyance, clearly visible even over the holoscreen to the _Ocean_'s bridge. "Admiral Reige," she acknowledged him coolly, "you also serve simultaneous roles as head of state and military commander. I believe this puts us in a unique position to resolve our differences without resorting to violence."

Reige smiled thinly and stroked his chin thoughtfully. "I should think violence to be wholly unnecessary to resolve our differences; or perhaps the chasm dividing us is not nearly so great in my view as it is in yours. You are in Imperial Space; the Empire is no longer under jurisdiction of the Galactic Alliance; therefore, you are trespassing. Should you depart at once, we might open channels to discuss our continued peaceful coexistence, with or without the Alliance to bind us together politically."

Niathal's voice emerged like a gravelly hiss. "You forget that you have absconded with a fleet of that Alliance, Reige."

"The majority of the Third is supplied and crewed by the Empire," he reminded her.

"Then you break your word?" she demanded. "That you would freely release the minority- several thousand crew, pilots, and officers, by my calculation- back to Alliance space?"

The Imperial admiral blinked in surprise and frowned lightly at her. "My dear Admiral Niathal, everyone who wanted to return has returned. What am I to do if a number of my people refused to quit the service of the Third? Or perhaps you propose to prosecute them all for treason, if and when you get your hands on them again?"

"I will see them all discharged dishonorably, at the very least," she assured him in a low growl. "As to your first request- you are harboring enemies of the Galactic Alliance within your borders, Admiral."

"They are your enemies only because you have so declared them."

"They are our enemies because they committed an act of war; an act of war, struck in the very heart of the GA, Reige."

"If you believe it, you are truly a fool, Cha. The Ascendancy does not engage in political subterfuge so far from home."

A strange look flitted through Niathal's bulbous eyes before the nictitating membranes flickered uneasily- it was a fast reaction, easily overlooked… but Reige catalogued it for further consideration. "Chief Essada would beg to differ," she spoke quietly but firmly. "And despite whatever you may believe, two chiss- two chiss _Jedi_, no less- were arrested in the attempt to flee the scene of the assassination… and subsequently escaped from the Jedi temple."

"The Jedi," Reige murmured thoughtfully. "And where do _they_ find themselves in this little escapade of yours, Cha?"

"They will support the Alliance that supports them," she growled back.

Reige smirked knowingly. "You don't sound too sure of that, Admiral. Perhaps your hasty war is not sitting quite right with the defenders of peace and justice." He cocked his head. "Perhaps you mean to charge them with treason as well?"

Now he was just goading her and a look at her dark face was enough to let him know that she realized it. "I think we have nothing more to discuss, Reige. I again urge you to reconsider your alliance with these murderous subverters. Our conflict does not lie with the Remnant."

At an almost unnoticeable signal from the admiral's hand, Captain Verinsky turned to the comm station and murmured in low tones to the chief tech, who quickly did as told, emitting a quick hypercomm signal towards the center of Imperial space.

Reige shook his head sadly. "Then I _am_ sorry, Cha. Your principles say you must act against those you believe to have wronged you; mine dictate that I uphold the alliances to which I have sworn myself and those under my command." His eyes flickered once over to the captain, who nodded quickly. "I hope you do not take our reluctance to engage against you as a sign that we will not be decisive in doing so."

With a quick motion, the transmission was cut off; a look around confirmed that, for the duration of their conversation, Fel's forces had not been idle and, indeed, were positioning themselves for optimum access along Niathal's starboard flank. That was ideal, given that the half of the Home Fleet being pulled away from Bastion and Commander Spa'rein's forces would revert somewhere between her aft and port sides, near the far flank of the Second Fleet. He idly wondered whether Fel had a clear idea of where their reinforcements would be originating and, consequently, where they would be reverting. Then he decided that he simply didn't care at the moment.

He had an ally who appeared to be about ten steps further ahead on the chaos that was transpiring across the galaxy- and for now, that was far better than nothing.

And, in what looked in the viewport to be something of a coordinated dance, fighters began to drop from hangar bays throughout the four assembled fleets, and Fel closed the distance between his forces and Niathal's- flashes of red and green light lit the darkness of surrounding space, and smaller flares suggested that the smaller snubfighters were already beginning to exchange fire. Finally, within a minute and with a flicker of pseudomotion, Nhylatich and Spa'rein reverted.

A four-way war- the Galactic Alliance against the Ascendancy, the Empire, and the Empire of the Hand- had just begun.

X-X-X-X

_Dark Wanderer – Ascendancy Advance Fleet Flagship_

Aristocra Tsel'oru'nuruodo stared blankly at Commander Spa'rein for close to a half a minute, before he remembered that they were in the midst of a fledgling battle here. "They are _who_?"

Looking warily apologetic, the commander answered succinctly, though the confusion was evident in his own voice as well. "Admiral Reige says they are under the banner of the Empire of the Hand, Aristocra; under the command of a Fel- Cem Fel."

"There is no 'Cem' Fel," the older chiss hissed. "The only surviving male child of Soontir Fel is…" he trailed away and looked off to the side, at nothing in particular, just deep in thought for another several seconds. Then, most surprisingly of all to the commander… he chuckled lowly and shook his head.

"Sir?"

"He has a shadow-son." He spoke slowly, a hint of wonder to his voice. "Soontir Fel raised a shadow-child. Surely it is the only plausible explanation." A hint of respect crept into his voice. "Perhaps he was more chiss than I ever credited him for."

X-X-X-X


	22. Chapter 21

**Chapter 21**

_Near Bandomeer_

As the Fourth Fleet reentered hyperspace, still an hour outside the engagement zone, Gavin Darklighter retreated to his office where the same crowd as before- with the additions of Jagged Fel and Kyp Durron- awaited him. It was an oddly comprised group, and all the more strange for the fact that all of the people assembled shared some form of personal connection; or rather, they all had a single person in common, a single person who was still conspicuously absent from the goings-on… and no one had offered more than a vague response when inquired as to Leyla's whereabouts.

When he walked into the office, Wedge and Gennevi were sitting in chairs side-by-side, murmuring quickly and quietly, probably about some sort of tactical matter. Jag and Kyp were leaning against the far wall, also softly engaged in conversation; Darklighter thought that theirs was probably the most unlikely of friendships he'd even encountered. And Jaina, silent and brooding, was perched on the edge of his desk, though she quickly slid off of it when he entered.

"At ease," he assured them all drily when the other four continued their conversations unhaltingly. Gennevi glanced over at him and smirked, and Wedge just looked skeptical.

"Gavin," the former general said, "you may be an admiral and I may just be a retired fighter-jockey with two grown kids and too much free time on my hands… but let me assure you, it'll be some time before you can issue orders to me."

"Yes, _General_," he drawled, and then turned immediately serious. "We can expect action in just under two hours. It seems that a Chiss interdictor has been utilized to keep the Alliance forces pinned in a fairly isolated sector."

He saw the faint look of relief pass over Jaina's face and cocked a questioning brow. She glanced once at Jag and then shrugged helplessly. "Naviin is on Bastion with Soontir, Syal, and Wyn," she explained. "When all hell broke loose… there didn't seem to be many good alternatives to the current situation, so we told them to stay put. The last thing we want to do… especially with the Ascendancy involved… is to draw attention to how many Fels are on Bastion right now."

The admiral frowned lightly. "But you don't believe the Ascendancy truly staged an attack against Essada?" Even after they'd spent nearly a day aboard the _Trucemaker_, he still struggled to understand their take on the events which had transpired on Coruscant in recent days. Word passed through the Fleet was very straightforward: acting as one, a Chiss force had forced Niathal out of Bothan Space at the same time that two chiss assassins made an attempt on Polla Essada's life in the Senate hall.

The first story was verified but cast in a different light by Wedge, who emphasized that the Chiss had not in any way threatened Niathal's fleet, simply acted as a secondary force to ensure that she not finish the job Reige refused to do- the slaughter of defenseless bothans. The second story… everyone seemed less sure about that one. But the Jedi on Coruscant had clearly stated their belief that the two chiss who had been in the Senate building at the time of the shooting had not pulled the trigger- though they had no reasonable explanation for what they were doing there in the first place, and someone had sprung them from the temple before they might explain.

Jag met his stare evenly. "Having become intimately acquainted with the Ascendancy's way of doing things, Admiral, I can say with confidence that no legitimate power in the government would have or could have commissioned someone to make an attempt on the leader of a foreign government. My concern for my son, such as it is, stems from the simple fact that he is a Fel and history has shown how many in the Ascendancy feel about my family which, unlike Polla Essada, has a direct connection to the Ascendancy and its hierarchy of government."

"Well, whatever part the Ascendancy are playing, they seem to have a greater presence in Imperial space than we suspected. Apparently they and Reige had something of an upper hand whilst Niathal was awaiting Admiral Ratobo."

"And now?"

He hesitated. "And now… Admiral Niathal didn't use so many words… but they're playing with them."

Jaina shot him a look. "Come again?"

He spread his hands in confusion. "It was, by necessity, a brief transmission, but… whatever strategy they're using, she can't seem to figure it out. No one has really sustained heavy losses at this point. The Imperial and Chiss tactic thus far seems to be to disable as many Alliance ships as possible and with as little bloodshed as possible."

"Also the tactic Reige employed against Bwua'tu," Gennevi pointed out softly.

Kyp frowned though. "It's hardly a comparable situation; Bwua'tu had yet to make a move against Alliance interests. Here, Reige is facing not only an open threat, but an invasion of his territory. And he's stalling for time?"

"Maybe he thinks that he'll gain something by forcing Niathal home with her tail between her legs, rather than outright tearing apart the Supreme Fleet?" All eyes in the room turned to Jaina, who shrugged defensively. "What? I didn't say it was a _good_ plan- but like we've already admitted, Reige is a relatively unknown quantity."

Darklighter shook his head slowly though. "No, Reige is a decisive actor and he's not unwilling to be straightforward and aggressive when the situation warrants it."

Gennevi glanced between Jaina and Darklighter. "So then the question becomes- why does he feel such a tactic to be warranted in _this_ situation?"

Her former CO shook his head and scowled. "I don't know- but I daresay we'll find out soon enough."

X-X-X-X

_Wild Space – Planetoid 5249125_

Vulcor tapped the display screen as he received the report they had all been waiting for. The last team was on Ryloth and had tracked the carrier of the vial of Alpha Red to within two kilometers of a ship, a small carrier sitting isolated and seemingly abandoned on the hot side of the stationary planet.

He exchanged a look with the eickarie, Major Ra-ban. The major double-checked the connections- thirteen of them to thirteen different systems, plus one to a single shuttle and accompanying StealthX sitting midway between Kril'dor and Iridonia in the Mid Rim.

A message was sent- a short message that they didn't even bother to encrypt; it would be been utterly uninteresting to anyone who intercepted it.

"Go."

X-X-X-X

_The Hand_

"You're enjoying this entirely too much."

To the average outward observer, Thrawn was cool, collected, calculating. To Cem, he was just shy of manic with excitement as, for the first time in… well, in _this_ lifetime, he found himself in a position to observe, analyze, and affect military procedure and strategy. He had also been unable to refrain from pointing out, just as Nhylatich and Spa'rein arrived, that the maneuver in which they had done so had been posthumously dubbed the 'Thrawn Pincer.' Cem had dully pointed out that the exact same maneuver would be employed _against_ them when Ratobo and Darklighter showed up.

To which Thrawn had sagely replied, "Yes, Captain- but we'll be ready for them."

In the hours since, he was garnering just a shade too much enjoyment in provoking Niathal, Klauskin, or Ratobo into shifting techniques and tactics- and then starting the whole process all over again by deploying fighters against a particular array of capital ships or frigates in ever-changing patterns, striking at the weapons turrets and engines, and withdrawing again, forcing yet another shift in the Alliance deployment grid as repairs were affected and vulnerable ships were reallocated into a more central and secure position amid the three Alliance fleets that were currently facing adversaries on four sides.

All of that was about to change though- for good or bad, Cem could not yet decide. He glanced anxiously at his chrono, wondering for the umpteenth time if it had been a mistake to listen to Leyla in this at all, despite Thrawn's apparently mystical belief that she could pull everything together somehow and bring the galaxy back from the edge of a devastating civil war. Another one.

"Sir," the sensor officer called, "new fleet reverting, vector three point six-two."

An uneasy look was directed towards Thrawn, who looked wholly unconcerned as he studied the chaos that had become the massive battle, periodically murmuring something under his breath as he tapped at the control board and the representative blips on the accompanying hologram moved accordingly. The mass of the Fourth Fleet suddenly appeared in the projection, its weapons and shields already powering up, and half of Reige's forces were adjusting their positions accordingly to defend against this new threat.

Then the sensor officer was calling out again, this time sounding decidedly confused. "Sir- _more_ ships reverting at eight point seven."

That finally drew a measure of interest from Thrawn, and he strode quickly to the sensor station and peered intently at the quickly registering data on the new fleet. "An unusual assortment of vessels," he murmured. "Certainly not the bothans or the sullustans." He came to stand by Cem's side at the viewport, still overlooking the massive array of accumulated firepower on both sides.

The captain scowled. "What new trick does Ryoqim have up his sleeve?" he muttered. "Ensign, begin cross-matching the new fleet with any known local sector defense forces, beginning in a hundred light-year radius and-"

"_Leyla_."

He spun back towards Thrawn. "What?"

The chiss clone nodded out towards the small but vicious force that was fast approaching the height of the battle, a slow smile spreading across his face. "Your eight hours is up, Captain."

Before Cem could respond, a deep and authoritative male voice sounded across the bridge as the leader of the newly arrived force hailed all channels. The noise of the broadcast drowned out the proximal sounds of sensor alerts and system updates, giving the erroneous impression that that the fight had mystically halted upon the newcomer's arrival.

"This is Lord Ta'yen Viholn leading the combined Senex-Juvex Sector Fleet," the young man spoke evenly. "I come bearing a message for all ship commanders of the Galactic Alliance Defense Fleet- if you truly value the ideals of the Alliance you once stood for, surrender your ships to the command of Admiral Reige."

The gravelly voice of Cha Niathal was not long in responding to this wholly irregular demand. "The peoples of Senex must be behind the times, Lord Viholn," she managed to keep her cynicism for his title mostly out of her voice. "Admiral Reige has withdrawn from the Galactic Alliance and has allied himself with our enemies."

"Your enemies are at your back, Admiral Niathal, as I suspect you are well aware."

There was a lengthy period of silence before the Mon Calamari admiral spoke again. "You say your words come as a message- from whom?"

The screen changed abruptly as her cold, clear words cut across the bridge of _The Hand_.

"From me."

X-X-X-X

_Trucemaker_

Gavin Darklighter stared incredulously at the newly appeared visage that was still being broadcast across all channels. Her dark eyes burned in fury, giving her the appearance of being far older than her twenty years. By his side, Gennevi stiffened in shock and fumbled for her comlink, bringing it to her mouth with shaking hands. "Kyp, Jaina, Jag- get back up here." She wasn't even positive that their wings hadn't yet launched.

The admiral spared her a wry look. "You going to tell me _now_ what Leyla has been up to all this time?"

She looked faint. "She disappeared. With hardly a word. We've had no idea." She swallowed thickly. "Until she turned up on Coruscant three days ago- with the two chiss who supposedly tried to assassinate Essada."

"_With_ them?" he demanded.

"In charge of them, it seemed," she murmured, ignoring his slack-jawed disbelief. "She was apprehended by Jacen, but then disappeared from the temple at the same time as the other two- no idea how they got out- and dropped off the grid again."

"And is now siding in a hopeless fight against her entire family," Darklighter surmised with a growl. "Great. Jaina's going to _love_ this."

X-X-X-X

_The Ocean_

"Jedi Solo-Fel," Niathal's voice rumbled gravelly. "Your actions today are an order away from treason."

The Jedi smiled dangerously. "No, Admiral Niathal- _your_ actions are the treasonous ones. And such as it is, I want to speak with the one in charge."

"You are an insolent little girl," the admiral growled deeply.

"And you are nothing but a puppet," Leyla responded sharply. "Come now, I know he's dictating the course of this conversation to you- I want to speak with the senator."

X-X-X-X

_The Hand_

Cem looked uneasily at Thrawn. "What is she doing?"

The chiss's smile was positively feral. "She's baiting him. She wants him to reveal his machinations for all to hear."

"Yes, but why?"

"To lure him out. To get him to follow through on his threat and discover that years of planning have come to naught."

"But when he realizes that his attacks have failed, he'll just…" Cem trailed away and then whipped around to address the comm officer. "Lieutenant, what kind of transmission delay can you pick up from Jedi Solo-Fel's side of the conversation?"

Thrawn nodded approvingly. "You see it now, don't you?"

"She's not actually here. She never left Coruscant." Cem shook his head wearily. "She's good."

X-X-X-X

_Trucemaker_

Jaina and Kyp exchanged an alarmed glance that was mixed with confusion. "She's not here," Kyp declared immediately. "This is being relayed through the Senex fleet from somewhere else."

Before further speculation was possible, a deep voice, cold and calculating, emitted from an unseen speaker. It sent chills up Gennevi's spine. "Jedi Solo-Fel," he acknowledged, "the admiral is right- you_ are_ an insolent little girl. And just what is it that you want?"

"I want you to order the GA forces to stand down."

"And if I don't?" he asked, voice laden with cruel amusement.

She stared coolly. "Then when this is all over, the people will know it was _you_ who caused unnecessary bloodshed here today, Yanis Kloru." Confused glances were exchanged all around on the bridge of the _Trucemaker_.

A deep fury was in the senator's next words as he apparently realized that she was not, in fact, bluffing. "On the contrary," he snapped, "it is _you_ and you alone who will be held responsible- not for the deaths of those who apparently answer to you, those enemies of the Alliance- but for the deaths of billions across the galaxy. And _then_, you will be responsible for the critical bacta shortage that will wreak havoc on the galaxy when Thyferra is devastated. All it will take-"

"Is the push of a button?" she asked mockingly. "Do it, Senator- do your worst."

A growl emitted from the speaker. "And you do yours, my young Jedi, Lord Viholn."

The transmission cut and everything seemed to freeze for a moment- until someone called for Darklighter's attention. "Sir, we have dozens of new ships emerging from hyperspace- irregular configuration… transponder codes suggest bothan and sullustan origins."

The admiral cursed. "Jaina, I don't know what your daughter is doing, but-"

"Admiral!"

He turned back around just in time to see the Senex forces maneuvering into a defensive screen, arrayed to maximum advantage against the newly arrived taskforces.

Jag spoke quietly. "I don't think Leyla's doing anything. For those forces to be acting on behalf of the GA…"

"We've all been hoodwinked- all of us save a twenty-year-old girl." Darklighter stood in uncharacteristic hesitation, unsure of what to do now. The other assembled fleets were maneuvering into defensive patterns to compensate for the three new forces that had arrived within two minutes of one another, but the Fourth Fleet remained still and isolated on the far flank of the action, its ships still powering shields to maximum capacity.

"Sir," a mildly hesitant comm officer called, "we're being hailed by _The Hand_."

Darklighter turned and stared. "What's _The Hand_?"

"Ah- flagship of the smaller taskforce of seeming Chiss origins… though they have unknown transponder designations, they _are_ allied with the Remnant, in any event…"

"Wait…" Jag muttered softly. Kyp and Jaina both turned to look at him in confusion.

Darklighter waved a hand resignedly. "Patch it through- how much more convoluted could this get?"

The screen resolved into the image of another command deck, numerous blue-skinned chiss visible in the background at various stations, with a single human commander standing straight in the center of the picture. "Captain Fel commanding the vanguard of the Empire of the Hand," he introduced himself stiffly.

Darklighter whipped around to where Jag and Jaina were staring in disbelief, until the former recovered from his surprise and strode to the admiral's side.

"Cem, you son of a bitch!"

"Peace, Jagged. All will be known to you in due course."

"Where's my daughter?" the younger brother demanded.

Cem met his angry tone evenly. "She is fighting a silent war for the galaxy and its beings."

"And what is it that you're doing? The dirty work?"

"I am trying to minimize further bloodshed, brother." He turned back to the admiral who was entirely lost in the conversation. "Admiral Darklighter, Leyla tells me that you are honorable and pragmatic; in continuing to fight for Niathal, you are furthering an agenda of tyranny. By now you must realize that she is coerced and blackmailed in her actions."

"That is, indeed, becoming clearer with each new surprise, Captain."

"I expect to shortly have the means with which to persuade Niathal to stand down- and the bothans and the sullustans. In the meantime- if your fleet stays out of this fight, our numbers will be nearly even. If you ally yourself with Admiral Reige, you may just give Ratobo and Klauskin enough pause to prevent this day from becoming an unnecessary massacre."

Darklighter held up a hand. "A moment, Captain." He switched off the audio receiver and turned towards Jaina and Jag, brows raised and a look of forced patience on his face. "Either of you care to explain?"

In retrospect, Jaina wasn't sure what she expected, but it wasn't the succinct honesty with which Jag explained all he was able. "Cem is my brother, three years my elder," he informed the admiral. "He is my family's shadow-child, a custom among the Chiss aristocracy originally meant to ensure that a noble line could never be fully eliminated by one's enemies. Until three months ago, he was living under an assumed name in the Imperial Remnant and serving in Starfighter Command aboard the _Ocean_ in the Third Fleet. Three months ago, he went missing and my family has not since heard of him- until this moment. We did not know whether he lived, let alone that he was serving in an Empire long-believed disbanded."

"Hm." He stroked his goateed chin absently as he considered the young man before him. "Could this be some sort of set up?"

"I…" he hesitated. "No, sir, I do not believe so. I cannot say what Cem's objectives are, but I can promise you that he has the good of the galaxy at heart."

"At the cost of your peace of mind regarding Leyla's whereabouts as well, it seems," Darklighter surmised drily. "So be it- and I sincerely hope your brother knows what he's doing… as we are all about to commit high treason."

X-X-X-X

_Thyferra_

The Thyferran Deputy Justice Minister stared blankly at the two wholly unexpected beings who were busy at work. The first was delicately placing a sophisticated-looking device into a vacuum-sealed storage case; when he pressed a button with strange symbols on top of the case, a hissing sound informed them that the air was being sucked out. The second figure was standing guard over a sullen human male in stun-cuffs who was also sporting a black eye.

"I confess," he finally found his voice, "I'd quite expected Master Zekk and Mistress Tahlia again."

The female chiss who was staring narrow-eyed at the subdued human spared a glance for the minister. "We are here at their bidding."

It seemed to Minister Tlarin that he'd get little else by way of explanation. Nevertheless, he was quite surprised when the promised summons came by way of two chiss he'd never seen before and whose presence on Thyferra had gone wholly unnoticed by planetary or local authorities. "And that container is… secure?"

The second chiss, a stoic male with close-cropped hair and a scar marring the pale blue skin of his left cheek, nodded once, curtly. "Even if it were not, the substance Master Zekk tested three months ago has been released in your atmosphere; the virus would be killed on contact."

Right; he knew that. Minister Tlarin attempted a weak smile, but the gesture seemed to go entirely unnoticed by the focused beings who were now methodically looking around the small and sparse apartment where the spy had been apprehended. They had perhaps searched half of the space when the comm console in one corner beeped with an incoming transmission. Tlarin looked at the bound man, who paled instantly.

The two chiss took in this reaction and the female cocked a brow. "I think the boss is calling." When the subdued human betrayed nothing, she shrugged and pressed the glowing button to accept the call.

Nothing happened. The screen remained dark, though the console indicated the there was an open link. "Senator," she bared her teeth in a mocking smile, guessing- accurately, though she could not know it- that the video uplink from her end was broadcast with sparkling clarity. "You'll have to try back later if you want to speak wit-"

The transmission cut off abruptly.

X-X-X-X

_Coruscant_

Thin-fingered hands trembling, Ryoqim stared at the blank screen, working quietly and frantically through what had happened, through the slow crumbling of all he had put together.

_Chiss_.

How had he been discovered? What part did the Solo-Fel brat play into it?

Why had he not listened to the uneasy weight on his mind after chiss turned up nearly simultaneously in Bothan Space and on Coruscant? And more importantly, perhaps- what had the two _truly_ been doing in the Senate Building when his assassin triggered the shot that failed to kill Essada? Had they learned of the attempt and, if so, how?

The continued and ominous silence told him clearly enough that his people were thwarted on Falleen as well; he briefly contemplated attempting to trigger the other eleven, but he knew well enough that it would be futile. The impressive organization of his downfall might later elicit a measure of admiration from him but, for now, he needed to figure out his next play.

His last play.

X-X-X-X


	23. Chapter 22

**A/N: **_**JadedKatrina**_- thanks! Very happy to hear that you've enjoyed these stories so much. :-) As it currently stands, there are no plans to continue this series… I spent the better part of a year writing in this AU, and about 5 months of that went into this story which is, by far, the longest and most complex thing I've ever written, so I got pretty worn out. And I planned this one to be a resounding conclusion, so it should answer at least some of your questions- there are still ten chapters to go.

But then again, this AU also grew from a one-shot, to a whole story, to a prequel and then a trilogy… and then it just KEPT GOING… so there's no telling what could happen if a plot bunny strikes in the future…

;-)

**Chapter 22**

_Coruscant_

"He's left his office." Taseek's voice was a low murmur, almost a buzz in her ear. "Taking a different route through the building now, he's heading down…"

Leyla drew in another deep breath, heart still racing and adrenaline still pumping after the transmission that, if all had gone according to plan, Ta'yen had broadcast all over the entire assembled fleets, not just to Niathal aboard the _Admiral Ackbar_. If this didn't work, if anything went wrong…

She shook away those pessimistic thoughts and concentrated on what had to come next. Glancing around the cramped cockpit and out the viewport at the mass of Coruscant, huge and glittering despite the few thousand kilometers that separated her from the atmosphere, she waited any further information. Ryoqim's only choice now, his only chance to accomplish any of what he'd started… he had to travel to wherever he'd been stockpiling the ghastly weapons, to whatever lab or storehouse held them.

If he showed no signs of departing the planet, their only choice- and it was a distant second-best- would be for Fyaru and Taseek to capture him. That carried no guarantee that they could pry the information from him and, at the moment, the only good thing seemed to be that he hadn't commed anyone… Ghent would have known… to give them instructions. No, if Leyla had guessed correctly, the location was a closely guarded secret- one he was now, quite possibly, regretting.

Several minutes passed by, she wasn't sure how many, before Ghent's voice broke through the transmission. "His ID has just been registered in the lower hangar beneath the senate offices." For what had to be the hundredth time, Leyla wanted to ask him just how he'd managed to finagle his access to various highly secretive channels and databases, expert slicer or no. Now, however, was not the time.

In any case, he'd just give the same evasive answer about it being Karrde's business with Thrawn.

"He's requesting clearance for departure," Ghent added after another few minutes' silence. "I'm transmitting his assigned vector, standby."

StealthX starfighters were impressive feats of technology, in Leyla's opinion. Matte-black, they were nearly impossible to see in deep space, and a halfway decent pilot knew how to avoid being silhouetted against larger ships or against interstellar bodies otherwise. The shielding was light, and as a result, the craft were preferred by Jedi who were, quite frankly, better at dodging fire than other pilots. In fact, the only time Leyla had ever heard of a non-Jedi flying a Stealth in combat was when Gennevi had flown with her mother to cover Kyp and an assortment of other Jedi Masters who were departing Centerpoint Station after sabatoging it and effecting its imminent destruction.

The benefit of the light shielding was that it made the stealthcraft even more difficult to pick up with standard sensors than average X-wings. And so it was a perfect ship in which to stalk the fleeing Senator Ryoqim and determine his exit vector out of the Coruscant system without his noticing.

Unfortunately, comm traffic left an echo that was easy to pick up by other ships, so Stealths usually operated in total comm silence. Consequently, Ghent wouldn't be able to contact her again once he transmitted Ryoqim's vector off-planet, enabling her to find him amidst the assorted traffic in and out of the Coruscant system.

When the ithorian's sleek shuttle did make the jump to hyperspace several minutes later, Leyla finally broke comm silence again as she transmitted the data she'd collected to Ghent. "I need you to open a channel to Zekk and Tahlia while you're running that vector."

If Ghent was bothered about being ordered around by a girl who was a third his age, he didn't show it. "I'll have it in a minute."

"Make it fast."

While he worked, Fyaru and Taseek came back on the comm. "We're about a kilometer out from the hangar," Fyaru said. "Where do you want us? We can be in the air as soon as Master Ghent concludes his current task."

"No," Leyla answered immediately. "I want Ghent to be able to keep in touch with Vulcor and with _The Hand_. Get to the hangar and wait for Yilina and Damala."

"And then what? They have a prisoner with them, remember."

"Go to the Jedi temple."

The ensuing silence was thick with incredulity. When Fyaru found his voice, the skepticism in it was poorly concealed. "The same temple from which we mysteriously escaped two days ago? _That_ temple?"

"Fyaru, I just taunted the acting Chief of State and Supreme Commander of the entire GA military in front of all of the major Fleets, the Imperials, the Chiss, and the Empire of the Hand forces. This is my last shot here; it's also Ryoqim's last possible play. Whether or not we get him, the elements of secrecy and surprise are gone. It's time to tell the Jedi who the senator really is and how he's orchestrated this whole mess. They need to be ahead of the chaos if they have any hope of fixing it."

"And Ryoqim's destination?"

She hesitated. "If I track him to a lab or storehouse, I'll have Ghent pass along the-"

"Ithor."

"Come again?"

Ghent's voice was matter-of-fact, precise. "His exit vector suggests he is traveling to the Ottega system."

A chill ran down Leyla's spine. It was at once utterly obvious yet wholly impossible. Ithor was a dead world, had been dead for two decades now, its death the source of Ryoqim's vengeful psychosis. How could he be after _anything_ on Ithor? Unless… "Ghent, how many satellites does the planet have?"

The clicking of keys could be heard over the comm channel before he spoke up warily. "You aren't going to like this- Ithor itself has six moons, but the whole Ottega system has seventy-five planets and about six-hundred satellites."

"Then I guess I need to hurry up and tail him before he has a chance to disappear."

"Actually," a new voice broke in- male, deeper than Ghent's- Zekk- "we can be there an hour ahead of you, we aren't far out at all."

She let out a sigh of relief. That was one potential catastrophe averted. "Great. Get the data from Ghent, find a vantage point in-system where you'll catch him emerging from hyperspace, and lay low. We don't want to scare him off and have to sift through what must be the densest star system on this side of Hapes looking for his secret base."

"Yes, ma'am." She could hear the grin in Zekk's voice. "See you in… just over four hours."

X-X-X-X

_The Hand_

"Niathal is not pleased."

"Nor would you be, had someone just successfully subverted one of the key officers under your command."

The smile on Cem's face was barely shy of self-congratulating, but he quickly schooled his expression to grim neutrality once more. "You know, you were right about one thing."

"Only one?"

He ignored him. "I _have_ come to be pleasantly surprised by Leyla. Having only met her when she was twelve, I was truly unsure what to expect when we first made contact, but…" his lips quirked in a half-smile, "she has the drive, the sense of duty of any Fel. And the insubordination and resourcefulness of any Solo." He sighed, a trace of wistfulness in the act. "Have we re-established contact with Major Ra-ban?"

"For the moment, though the connection is unreliable and must be beamed through to Master Ghent on Coruscant first. The data package is slowly being compiled and transferred; it is taking time."

Cem shrugged wearily. "We have four hours to acquire and compress the recording relays; I want them ready to go the moment we get word that Zekk and Tahlia have located the hideout and secured Ryoqim. With Niathal, we need to have all or nothing."

Thrawn nodded his agreement distractedly as he continued taking in the influx of data from the battle that was becoming more and more one-sided now that Darklighter had, in essence, defected to the Empire and Klauskin was in the process of dialoguing with Jedi Master Corran Horn and former General Wedge Antilles regarding withdrawing his own support from Niathal. Only Admiral Ratobo stood stoutly by her side, a fact that was unsurprising, as the bith homeworld of Clak'dor VII was one of the thirteen worlds just rescued from the tyranny of Alpha Red.

He pointed vaguely towards the cluster of ships on the diagram that represented the forces amassed from Sorosuub and other seceded systems. "I have heard that Jedi pilots are superb but the rate at which your sister-in-law's squadron is disabling those cruisers is… remarkable."

"Ah," Cem smiled faintly, "you'll like this- the Jedi Stealth fighters were equipped to carry ion pulse missiles instead of proton torpedoes." Thrawn cocked a brow, intrigued. "They got to Bwua'tu's fleet just before Reige did, but their timetable was wrong- Niathal purposefully misled Darklighter, who was passing along information to Antilles. It seems they intended to force Bwua'tu to go to ground before he could attempt to engage any Alliance forces. They were forced out when the Third and the Supreme Fleets jumped in, but apparently a few stayed behind and, unbeknownst to Niathal, witnessed the encounter between her, Reige, and Spa'rein."

"Aha," Thrawn nodded slowly. "And they thusly knew that Spa'rein did not initiate direct hostilities against Niathal; thus Darklighter's easy defection. A fortunate stroke of luck for us, Captain."

"Indeed."

X-X-X-X

_Ottega System_

It was with bated breath that Leyla pulled back on the levers and watched the star lines fade into fixed points in the Ottega system- as though if she breathed too loudly, sequestered in the cockpit of her StealthX, Ryoqim might hear her and run off before they had the chance to apprehend him.

A quick visual scan, unsurprisingly, revealed little. She resisted the urge to run an active sensor scan and potentially reveal her presence and, instead, focused in on Zekk's presence as he reached out to her and opened his mind to a battle meld. She didn't know Zekk all that well, so the meld would be a somewhat imprecise means of communication based more upon sensations and feelings than specific thoughts, but it was better than broadcasting their presences by opening a comm channel.

The first thing she gathered from him was they they did, in fact, have Ryoqim in their sights, so she allowed herself to relax more fully. A light pressure urged her to hold her current course, and within a couple of minutes, a matte-black StealthX identical to her own fell in alongside her; Tahlia and Nabrin were nowhere to be seen, though Leyla could sense Tahlia's presence nearby easily enough.

An image flitted into her mind of a cold, rocky world, and she glanced around and tried to pinpoint the one that was shielding the presence of the shuttle in which the other two were standing by. The mass of the incredibly dense star cluster had yanked her from hyperspace well in the outer reaches of the system, providing a plethora of interstellar bodies which undoubtedly wreaked all sorts of havoc on standard ship scanners and sensors. Just as well that she wasn't using any.

By her calculations, Ryoqim should have arrived about three to five minutes ahead of her. Plenty of time to disappear behind the mass of any of the dozens of nearby planets or moons that lay on the edges of the simplest vector between the Ottega system and Coruscant. For a few minutes though, Zekk simply led her in a mildly roundabout route that she suspected had more to do with staying out of range of any surface-based sensors, though they should still be entirely undetectable by such technology.

Zekk's mental link with Tahlia was, for obvious reasons ranging from their long partnership to their personal relationship, much stronger than his meld with Leyla. And Tahlia must have given him some sort of definitive destination, because after a brief prod at her in the Force, he veered sharply around and set a specific course and had his Ar-Nine unit beam it over to Fate.

They had him.

X-X-X-X

_Coruscant_

Following a brief and terse transmission from Jacen, Luke, Leia, and Kenth Hamner quickly traversed the plaza that connected the Executive Office Building, the Senate Office Building, and the Jedi temple in triangular formation. They entered the temple without slowing and headed straight for the nearest turbolift to take them up several levels to the audience chamber where the Masters often met. Jacen met them outside the turbolift and fell into step beside Luke, murmuring quickly and quietly under his breath.

"They said they would deal with Master Horn or with you," he explained. "Corran is talking to them now…"

"Wait, Jacen," Luke held up a hand and slowed to a stop as they neared the room. "_Who_ will deal with Corran?"

"The chiss." Kenth's brows shot towards his hairline; Leia eyed Luke curiously, obviously wondering about the connection to their cryptic meeting at the monument two nights before. "They say they'll tell you everything but they'll only deal with you and Corran."

"Leyla?" Jacen shook his head. "How many of them?"

"Four." He hesitated. "And… they have a… prisoner. A rodian."

Luke looked around at his sister, nephew, and Hamner. Normally, it would be against his better judgment to let such unknown quantities dictate the terms of their meeting, but they had obvious reasons for trusting Corran and Luke, and if they had something to say that wasn't for widespread consumption… "Wait out here," he finally decided, raising a hand to forestall Jacen's protest. "Quietly get the other Masters together, but I don't want to put them off if they're willing to explain."

With a last nod towards Leia and Kenth, he disappeared into the audience chamber. He immediately recognized Fyaru and Taseek, and got a faint sense of recognition from one of the females, who he supposed to be the one who met him the other night. Corran stood and exchanged a hesitant look with Fyaru before introducing the other two. "Master Skywalker, Yilina and Damala who, along with Fyaru and Taseek, identify themselves as… Knights of the Hand."

Luke nodded; his suspicions were gradually being confirmed. "The Empire of the Hand, I presume," he addressed them all generally. The one who called herself Yilina nodded once, stiltedly. "You have been trained by Zekk and Tahlia?" he surmised quietly. Corran shot him a surprised, sidelong glance, but Yilina again verified his guess with a nod. "And you answer to a Fel; a Fel who few know exist."

"The shadow-son of General Soontir Fel has proven himself a capable leader," Yilina acknowledged slowly. "As has his niece, young though she is."

"We recently received word that Leyla summoned a wholly uninvolved fleet to stand against the Galactic Alliance."

"She summoned a trusted ally to stand against a leader who was blackmailed into tyranny by the mass-murderer responsible for the recent political unrest, the attempted assassination of Chief Essada, and the genocide of the bothan peoples of Torolis."

Luke and Corran stared at her dully.

"This being here," she gestured towards the rodian who looked terrified and sullen, but seemed to have lost any will to fight, "can attest to the truth of these allegations; his own people were threatened with a similar fate if he did not act as a pawn on Coruscant, threatening the lives of millions, perhaps billions of sentients… with this." Damala held up a small box, vacuum-sealed by the look of it. "Inside this case is a vial of a pathogen, developed from that which was known as Alpha Red, tailored instead to a different race. Such as it is, we do not know which race, though we suspect human. Similar such vials were recovered and likewise held secure on twelve other worlds between four and five hours ago. When Jedi Solo-Fel and Masters Zekk and Tahlia secure the location at which these abominations were manufactured, we will have all we need to end the war so futilely started between our peoples."

Luke sighed and put his head in his hand, sinking slowly into a chair across the room from the four chiss and the captive rodian. "Perhaps," he said ruefully, "you should start from the beginning."

X-X-X-X

_Ottega System – Fifth Moon of Ithor_

From the looks of things, it had once been an industrial mining site, likely abandoned sometime after the devastation of Ithor during the Yuuzhan Vong war when transit in and out of the system would have become expensive and impractical due to the fact that the primary was poisoned and burned, abandoned.

A StealthX fighter could hide most impressively in deep space; on approach to a small moon with no other traffic, it _might_ avoid visual detection; what it could _not_ do was convince any ground-based sensors that the weight of the fighter craft was, in fact, a natural part of the terrestrial surface. Once they landed, if Ryoqim was half as prepared for them as they expected, he would know immediately that they were there.

Consequently, there was little to be gained from continuing to be coy. Zekk broke comm silence after receiving a last data package from Tahlia and Nabrin, whose shuttle remained hidden to Leyla but was clearly working its way gradually in towards them and what they assumed to be the ithorian's secret base. "We're going in hot- one of the old mining tunnels, your Ar-Nine has the coordinates. Be on the lookout for any surface-based turbolaser emplacements."

"Or other fun booby traps?"

"Yeah."

She was tense as they descended beneath the surface of the dull grey and rocky moon in a tunnel that had clearly been initially designed for bulky cargo haulers to bring materiel down to the mining operations and to transport raw materials back out. As they went deeper through winding routes, Leyla began to wonder if these mines hadn't, in fact, been abandoned before the war, since their depth indicated that much of the moon had already been stripped. Strange, considering the holistic views the former inhabitants of the nearby planet had towards nature.

The further they went, the tenser she became; not due to any sense of danger, but because there was so little of interest to see, nothing going on around them. The place was empty, as dead as the once-vibrant world a few hundred thousand klicks away. But somewhere, concealed in the depths of this tomb…

"End of the line," Zekk's voice cut into her thoughts. "Repulsors."

Before she could ask what he had in mind, his fighter seemed to vanish before her eyes- until she edged forward another hundred meters and saw the straight drop down which he had descended. Keying her repulsor jets, her fighter lurched a moment before the anti-grav mechanisms attuned to the distance and controlled her fall.

When she stopped dropping, hovering five meters from the ground, she swung around and followed Zekk to where he was already setting his craft down in a huge cavern that looked like it might have been a loading dock in its heyday. The floor was smooth and sanded down, though the walls and ceiling were natural and craggy- save the single visible exit, besides that through which they had arrived- old, dilapidated blast doors on the far side of the chamber. Leyla wondered if they still even functioned.

"How's the air, Fate?" It hardly mattered; chances were high that Ryoqim would release some of the pathogen as soon as he got hold of it.

He tweetled a reply that scrolled across her screen, and she removed her helmet and donned her breathing apparatus before popping the canopy of the fighter. Zekk was already on the ground, glancing around suspiciously, taking in every little detail that might provide a clue as to their quarry's plans- there wasn't much to go on.

"What do you think?" she murmured softly as she came alongside him. "Does he know we're here?"

"Oh," Zekk glanced down at her from his impressive height, "I'm sure he does. The question now is whether he knew the whole time and led us here on a merry chase." He nodded towards the blast doors and shrugged resignedly. "Guess there's only one direction to go."

There was one direction to go, which meant that every instinct Leyla had was screaming at her that the one direction was a trap. A perfect way to lure people to certain doom was to funnel them exactly where you wanted them to go, but giving them no alternative choices. But they had a single advantage, she hoped, and that was that Ryoqim didn't know about Tahlia and Nabrin, still hovering around somewhere in-system. If Zekk and Leyla were injured or killed in the attempt to gain access to Ryoqim's hideaway, the other two could, hopefully, finish the job.

Zekk had just turned back towards his ship when the first muffled rumblings started. He froze, listening, senses alert, before hurrying to the side of his X-wing where the cargo compartment sat. Leyla opened her mouth to ask what he was doing, and then stifled a shriek as chunks of the cavern roof near the tunnel which had led them down her came plummeting down into the makeshift hangar.

So maybe the trap was already upon them.

Cursing, Zekk grabbed her arm and yanked her towards the blast doors as the rumbling vibrations intensified, as they rattled their teeth even as they ran. Using the Force to create a barrier to protect their heads, he spared a few seconds of precious concentration to wrench the doors sideways on their rusted tracts; the screeching groan was lost to the sound of the roof caving in on top of their fighters.

When they were barely a meter open, he shoved her through and then followed, pushing her to the ground beneath him and protecting her head as they waited to see if the structural integrity of the tunnel would hold as the hangar beyond collapsed.

X-X-X-X


	24. Chapter 23

**Chapter 23**

_Ottega System – Fifth Moon of Ithor_

When the weight finally unpinned her, Leyla coughed harshly, trying to clear her throat and lungs from the dust that permeated the air around them, as decades of dust and grime were stirred by the impromptu collapse of the cavern beyond the blast doors- blast doors that, she vaguely noted with confusion, were now closed, and she wondered when Zekk had found the spare concentration to yank them shut with the Force.

She rolled over onto her back, futilely wiping at her eyes to clear them of dust and dirt, even as she spat to clear her mouth and coughed some more- and realized that part of her problem was that she'd lost her breath mask in the scuffle and her lungs simply weren't getting an adequate supply of air from the low-oxygen environment deep inside the abandoned mining complex. Fumbling a moment, she found the mask and held it to her face for a few deep breaths, coughed and spat a few more times, and then secured it back around her head.

Leyla felt a brief sense of melancholy for her Ar-Nine unit, but supposed she was going to need a new droid anyway; Fate was great and all, but came with that unfortunate component of Karrde and Thrawn having copies of his operational protocols and could, theoretically, use those to pin down her location with minimal effort.

Zekk was sitting up a meter away; his mask was securely in place, but a gash to his head was bleeding profusely, coating his forehead quickly with bright blood. He fumbled with a pouch on his utility belt and produced a heavy cloth with which he wiped blood from his eyes; he then located a bacta patch and tore the backing from it before pressing it to the edge of the injury that extended over his forehead. It wasn't a very effective bit of first aid, since the wound extended well behind his hair-line, but it would have to do until he could locate some synthflesh.

"You alright?" he asked.

She wasn't the one trying to wipe blood from her face before it became a sticky mess with the dust and dirt also coating it. "Fine; you?"

"Yup," he pulled himself to his feet, seemed to hesitate a moment as he gauged his stability, and then extended a hand to her. She stood shakily in a cloud of dust, coughing one last fit before she noticed the close intensity with which Zekk was watching her. He cocked his head. "Your mask came off?"

Nodding, she frowned in confusion before understanding hit her. "You- you don't think he…?"

The dark-haired Jedi shrugged. "Probably not yet, he can't have had much time- but don't take it off again, in case he does release some of the pathogen."

"Can't we use the counter-substance?"

He pursed his lips. "Not anymore."

And she knew what he'd been trying to recover from the cargo hold of his StealthX before the ceiling caved in on it. Leyla winced. "Right. Well what do you suppose the chances are that we can get from here to wherever his stash is stored?" Zekk shook his head but Leyla thought carefully back to the start of the cave-in. The initial damage had been to the access tunnel, not to the cavern itself… which meant one thing: it wasn't that Ryoqim wanted them dead, he just wanted them trapped, unable to leave…

Unable to follow?

"He's on the move," Leyla decided immediately. "Zekk, we have to find him before he takes off again. We must have missed some secondary access tunnel on the way in, and if Tahlia misses him coming out again, we'll have no way of knowing where he's headed."

The older Jedi cursed and instinctively reached for his comlink- before he registered that it would do him no good down here, not with his X-wing out of commission to relay the signal. "Come on then," he started down the corridor. "Let's go."

As they collected themselves and headed in the only possible direction, Leyla ran through a mental checklist of their situation. Transportation- gone. Communications- lost. Oxygen- less than an hour's worth, though a Force-trance could drastically reduce their oxygen consumption. Ryoqim's status- unknown, presumed to have fled or be in the process of fleeing.

Not exactly an encouraging picture for her and Zekk, but Tahlia and Nabrin were still out there to get the job done.

X-X-X-X

_Imperial Space – _The Hand

Cem closed down the transmission with Ghent and clenched an uneasy fist absently as he closed his eyes and took a moment to rest his head against the back of the tall chair. In his other hand, he held a datachip that contained thirteen separate data packages, one from each compromised planet with precise descriptions of how, where, and when the culprit had been apprehended, complete with holocam footage to verify that the deadly vials had been secured in vacuum-sealed containers. The fourteenth piece of information was much smaller- the simple coordinates of the moon to which Leyla had tracked Ryoqim from Coruscant.

He sighed and pulled his comlink from his belt. "Crahsystor?"

"_Captain_?"

"I'm sending you a set of coordinates; dispatch two heavy assault cruisers immediately."

There was a brief pause as Thrawn was probably acquiring the indicated coordinates. "_The senator_?"

"Status unknown."

"_Your niece?" _

He swallowed. "Alive; otherwise unknown. The syndic and Tahlia have lost communication with Leyla and Zekk. Ghent is awaiting further information."

"_Understood_."

Cem re-clipped his comlink to his belt and stared blankly at the communications console for a long minute, weighing his options. It wasn't over, not until Ryoqim was dead or captured, and not until he had verification that they had, indeed, followed him to the right place, that it wasn't some further game. But his every instinct told him that this was the best they were going to get, that he needed to work on ending this _now_. Proof might just have to come later.

He tapped a key command. "Lieutenant Shebin?" The face of his primary comm officer materialized moments later. "I need you to start trying to open a transmission to the _Admiral Ackbar_. I need to speak with Admiral Niathal."

The stoic chiss's brows furrowed slightly. "She may not accept the request, Captain."

He nodded heavily. "If such is the case, tell her comm station to relay a message- that Captain Fel wishes to speak with her regarding the lives of billions she's been attempting to save."

If the well-trained chiss was at all confused by this order, it did not show on his face. "Yes, sir."

"Once you've done that, get a line to the _Ocean_ on standby."

"Copy."

X-X-X-X

_Ottega System – Fifth Moon of Ithor_

They used up twenty minutes of their precious oxygen supplies just locating the center of the caverns, the operations center of the former mining complex. It had once been enclosed, but further collapses of tunnels and the weakening caused by decades of disuse had compromised the structural integrity of the control room.

It turned out that it didn't matter. An innocuous black canister was sitting on a control board, a small gas-dispersal cylinder. Zekk picked it up gingerly and grimaced. "Timed-release mechanism, just like Torolis; didn't want to risk _himself_ trying to kill us."

"Is that…?" Leyla asked, knowing the answer even before the question left her mouth.

"Let's put it this way," Zekk spared her a glance. "If you take off that mask, you'll be unconscious in about a minute, dead in three to five."

Reassuring.

Furthering their problems was that neither of them had seen or sensed any sign of Ryoqim and, on top of it all, Tahlia and Nabrin were now inside the complex as well. Zekk's face was pinched in annoyance when the two of them appeared through a second access hatch that clearly led to a more primary hangar than the death trap into which Zekk and Leyla had flown. Both wore masks as well, and Nabrin held a small silver device in one hand that Leyla had to assume contained the counter-substance.

"What are you doing here?" he demanded hotly.

Tahlia cocked a cool brow. "Saving the two of you from an unpleasant death by suffocation."

"Not the priority, dear. Ryoqim's gone."

"We know."

His green eyes bugged out a bit. "You- _Tahlia_! We have no way of knowing what he took where he's going, who he'll-"

"Zekk." He blinked twice as she held up a hand to forestall his tirade. "We got an exit vector on him. He jumped barely five minutes ago. He exited on the far side of the moon from where he entered, so there wasn't a chance of catching him _before_ he jumped, but we sent the vector data to Ghent, who will analyze it, figure out what system he's headed towards, and then get in touch with local authorities to tell them to throw everything at his ship and destroy it before he makes atmosphere."

For a moment, he stared at her blankly, and then looked sheepishly pink. "Oh. I… guess that could work."

"In the meantime," she continued, "I really didn't intend to let the father of my son die a preventable death. Now," she took in his bruised and bloodied face, the smudges of dust and dirt around Leyla's eyes, and frowned. "The two of you look like hell."

He gave her a look. "You should see Bex and Fate."

Tahlia winced. "Sorry." She eyed the open vial of pathogen and grimaced towards the elderly chiss who was hovering in the doorway, looking around distastefully. "What have you-" Her comlink beeped a three-note whistle and cut her off. "That's Ghent," she said, glancing towards an old communications center. "Think this thing still works?"

Without waiting for an answer, she slipped into the chair and began tapping at the control board; lights began blinking and she shrugged, inputting the frequency for the small chiss shuttle's own communications console. After a few seconds, the call transferred to the system inside the control room and Ghent's harried face materialized, his eyes wide and alarmed. "I've been trying to reach you-"

"We've found his operating center," Tahlia informed him.

"-to tell you-"

"You'll want to let Cem know that-"

"-that I can't get a hold of-"

"But we have enough air to…" she paused and frowned. "What was that last?"

He huffed in angry frustration. "I can't contact his target-planet! He must have chosen it _specifically_ for this reason, he's out for revenge or something and-"

"Ghent," Zekk frowned heavily and stepped into the view of the cam, "slow down. Where's he headed?"

"The Ascendancy. _Csilla_."

Everything froze for a moment; and then six eyes turned slowly towards the pale, ashen-faced syndic still standing in the doorway. Leyla cursed inwardly- _of course_. How could she be so stupid? What must Ryoqim have thought, when the Chiss turned up to confront Niathal, when Fyaru and Taseek were arrested in the Senate hall, when Cem's fleet- comprised of ships of chiss-technology- appeared unexpectedly in the fight against the GA forces?

He had no way of knowing that it was not the Ascendancy behind his downfall; he probably had every reason to suspect it _was_ the Ascendancy, he had to know that Alpha Red was a Chiss project first and foremost.

And now he'd had Niathal shut down all communications from Galactic Alliance space into the Unknown Regions. Sure, it had a strategic military purpose, kept the forces in Ascendancy space unclear as to what was happening in Imperial space- but perhaps his intentions had been multi-fold all along? Had he orchestrated this too, from the moment he'd come to suspect that the Ascendancy knew more than they should have?

And he'd trapped Zekk and Leyla's fighters- it didn't matter that they hadn't died, he didn't need them to be dead. Unable to leave and unable to utilize the comm equipment to get word to the Ascendancy…

But unbeknownst to him, they still had Nabrin's shuttle.

She turned blankly towards the door to the hangar, doing furiously fast calculations in her head. The Ottega System was near the edges of Alliance space as it was. Getting to Ithor from Coruscant was simple enough by virtue of the Hydian Way, but hyperspace travel from the Core out into the Unknown and Wild Regions was a trickier business, fraught with numerous relay points and course changes. Conversely, the engagement in Imperial Space was taking place not far from Yaga Minor, which practically straddled Ascendancy space… but Csilla lay on the far edges of the region, and was certainly no shorter a trek for Cem than from here. The only other person she'd trust- Vulcor- was much too far away.

Which left only one option. "I'm going."

"The shuttle is contaminated, Leyla." She stopped but did not turn. "You'll be dead the moment your oxygen tank runs out."

Tahlia spoke up uncertainly. "The spare vials, Zekk…?"

He sighed. "I'm sorry; there wasn't time. He brought the whole cavern down on top of us less than a minute after we landed." He paused. "Syndic?"

Leyla finally turned to look at the elderly chiss, one who she had despised for years for a lie of a reason, one who she'd down her best to simply avoid since learning that he was yet another pawn in Thrawn's game. He gazed back at her, red eyes flickering and unsure. "If I went alone…"

Zekk shook his head. "If it mutates and kills you- and it probably will- you've condemned Csilla to die. You have to kill it here and now."

"And let the eight _billion_ on Csilla hope for the best?" he asked sadly.

"If we leave now, we can get him," Leyla whispered. "But we have to _go_."

Nabrin's eyes closed wearily as he fumbled with the silver canister in his hand. He depressed a small button on the side of the cylinder and the top extended with a quiet whirring noise; moments later, a hiss indicated the release of the gas, a deceptively small amount.

Leyla waited ten seconds and then, slowly, drew her breath mask over her head and off of her face. Breathing the low-oxygen air was difficult anyway, so she took only a few pained breaths before replacing the mask. When thirty seconds passed and nothing had happened, she nodded her grim approval and turned again, speaking over her shoulder as she entered the hangar. "Maybe it will be enough to achieve its intended purpose on Csilla, when we arrive."

"I doubt it," Nabrin murmured, "after twelve hours in hyperspace, the concentration of the compound will have already begun the process of breaking down."

Zekk laid a hand on her shoulder before she could go up the ramp of the shuttle; Nabrin went quickly around her as she turned impatiently, though her eyes widened slightly at Zekk's words. "We're staying."

"But… you don't have enough air and you have no ship now."

Tahlia glanced pointedly back towards the control room. "There are two spare oxygen tanks onboard, we can go into a trance if we need to buy a little more time but… we need to find out what's here and figure out how to destroy it. Ghent's already relayed the coordinates to Cem, and a team of Jedi will be on their way any minute from Coruscant. We only need to last four hours." Leyla looked torn. "Go," Tahlia murmured. "Csilla is important but this… we can't leave this place unattended, now that we've found it. Ryoqim has the power to destroy one planet; this storehouse has the capability of tearing apart the entire galaxy as we know it."

She nodded stiltedly, wondering which of them was the greater fool. Turning abruptly, she swept up the ramp of the shuttle; Zekk followed close behind to retrieve the spare oxygen canisters, and Leyla hurried to the cockpit where Nabrin had already begun the startup sequence- but the old chiss was standing from the communications console instead where she supposed he'd just terminated the transmission with Ghent.

"If Cem can get Niathal to stand down, he might be able to persuade her to get the hypercomm channels repaired," Zekk said breathlessly, voice distorted and muffled through his mask. Leyla smiled sadly- they both knew that twelve hours was optimistic at best for that to happen. "May the Force be with you."

The ramp had barely closed before Leyla swung the shuttle around to head back up the main access tunnel which ran through the far side of the moon from where she and Zekk had entered. Her mind was blank, numb, as she wondered how it had come to this- racing off to the last place in the galaxy she had any interest in going, with the last person with whom she had any interest in spending twelve hours alone, cooped up in a small shuttle…

All to save a people who didn't like her anyway.

X-X-X-X

_Imperial Space – _TheHand

When Cha Niathal's visage finally appeared before him, Cem took in the weary set of her bulbous eyes, the subtle uncertainty that was difficult to read, to a non-Mon Cal, but that still roiled off of her, even across the hundreds of kilometers that separated them through the holoscreen. And he knew that this was a desperate being, torn apart by conflicting duties to her station and to the lives of innocents. In that moment, those few unguarded seconds before she realized the transmission had connected, Cem pitied her.

When she spoke, her voice was measured, giving away nothing, betraying none of her hopes and fears for the conversation to follow. "I was not aware that a Fel remained in the service of the Ascendancy," she remarked slowly.

"I do not serve on behalf of the Ascendancy, Admiral Niathal- just as you do not act on behalf of the Galactic Alliance." The thin nictitating membrane flickered down over her eyes a few times. "You already knew that you are discovered," Cem said coolly. "You knew it hours ago when my niece said as much, for all those present to hear, when the senator abandoned pretense and sent the forces of Bothawui and Sullust to join the fray."

"And your niece? On whose behalf does _she_ serve?"

Cem smiled faintly. "The Force? She does what is right, above all else- and in that capacity, she has located Senator Ryoqim's base of operations in the Ithor system." The admiral blinked unsurely. "It is over, Admiral."

"It is not so simple as that, Captain."

"It is," he countered. "I'm transmitting a datafile to you; it contains documentation of the actions of thirteen separate teams who have located and recovered Ryoqim's agents- and their bio-weapons- on thirteen different planets around the galaxy. Ryoqim has lost and he knows it, and your actions now are your own to take. The peoples of Dac, of Bothawui, of Sullust will not pay the price."

"And the senator?"

Cem kept his face impassive. "Our agents are tracking him; he will not do to another world what he did to Torolis." Still, she hesitated. "Admiral, he knows he has lost. Anything that happens now would not have been prevented had you continued to wage a useless and costly war. Has enough blood not yet been shed due to this tragic conspiracy?"

Finally, she nodded- a human affectation, not a natural sign of body-language for a Mon Cal. Part of her seemed to deflate where she stood, the white uniform of Supreme Commander was somehow less authoritative as all fight lost her eyes, and the look of dishonored despair replaced it. "Of course, Captain. I'll signal the cease-fire, if you'll have Vitor do the same. Once I've reviewed your data, I think it would be best if I transferred command to Admiral Darklighter."

"I agree." She certainly wasn't going to transfer it to Reige, anyway. The door to the private comm station just off the bridge opened, and Thrawn slipped silently into the room, hovering well out-of-sight of the holocam but looking at Cem pointedly. "Admiral, the files are transferring; I'll contact the _Ocean_. _Hand _out." He turned and felt a twinge of nervousness in his stomach at the look of intensity on the chiss's face. "What is it?"

"Ryoqim is en route to Csilla; presumably with the means at hand to effect the deaths of the eight billion who there reside." Cem ran a weary hand over his brow. "Syndic Nabrin is following."

"With Tahlia?" he asked, dread creeping into his voice. If Nabrin and Tahlia had been forced to abandon Zekk and Leyla in an unknown situation…

"With Jedi Solo-Fel. Zekk and Tahlia have remained behind to secure the site and prepare for a team of Jedi from Coruscant, as well as our strike force."

That was hardly preferable. "You're telling me… Leyla and Nabrin…?" Thrawn nodded slowly. He sighed. The Fels had not had good standing in the Ascendancy in nine years, and Nabrin was wanted for treason. "Can we get there ahead of them?"

"No. At best… perhaps a half-hour behind." The two stared at each other for a long moment, trying to determine the best course of action. "I will… place the fleet under the command of Admiral Reige."

Cem nodded reluctantly. "I need to tell him to effect a cease-fire immediately."

"Is there any hope of restoring the hypercomm lines…?"

The captain shook his head slowly. "No, it will be up to Leyla and Nabrin. The two unlikeliest saviors of the Chiss."

X-X-X-X

_Night Shadow_

"How did you do it?"

Two hours of tense silence was enough for Leyla; apparently it was not enough for Nabrin, who looked at her sidelong, from the corners of his eyes, looking reluctant beneath the stress. Perhaps he had anticipated this conversation- perhaps he had even anticipated it weeks ago, when they'd first met. If he did, it seemed he wasn't going to make this too easy. "Do what, Jedi Solo-Fel?"

"Capture them. Make everyone else think they were dead. Hide them away for nine months with no one being any the wiser."

A grey brow rose curiously. "Why?"

Frustrated, she bit the inside of her cheek to stop the retort that wanted to spill from her mouth. "Simple curiosity?"

He pursed his lips. "It was not done alone; some who assisted now serve the Hand. Some are points of contact within the Ascendancy with… varying degrees of knowledge of our work."

"And the attack itself?"

"Jedi Fel…" she narrowed her eyes and he sighed. "A trusted member of the family- a nephew of mine- led the raid. A single ship was designated as boarding party and all aboard were trusted to the utmost; and all who survived were quickly relocated to assist in training and preparing the forces which _Crahsystor_ Thrawn was recruiting and amassing." He hesitated. "The Aristocra, general, and ambassador were removed from the Corvette; the remainder of those partaking in the mission were told they were executed… and the bridge was destroyed in such a way to make it appear to be an accident… an ignited coolant leak, I believe. As it was reported to… the Jedi."

As it was reported to Leyla's mother, whose pain had echoed across light-years to her daughter out on Ossus. "Why did Thrawn want them?"

"I believe he felt he owed it to your grandfather, after so many years of dedicated service."

"He _owed_ it to him to leave him sitting in captivity for nine months while his wife believed him to be dead?"

Nabrin scowled slightly. "We did not anticipate such a lengthy duration of captivity."

For several seconds, she stared at him uncomprehendingly. "What?"

He finally turned to look at her fully, expression laden with exasperation. "We did not expect, once the news had reached Coruscant, that your mother's family would turn inward, that she would hide away in her grief. Thrawn anticipated a matter of weeks, perhaps two or three months, in which I had to move as much of my work as possible off of Csaus… before I had Solos and Skywalkers raiding my estate." He glanced away. "Of course, it wasn't until nine months passed and they were already recovered that we learned the truth- that your family was protecting the greater secret of your brother." Leyla looked down at the floor, never having remotely considered that possibility. Nabrin spoke quietly. "Thrawn was aware of the… extreme and restless measures undertaken to locate _you_, when you vanished so many years ago. He did not doubt that the search for the truth, even if your mother did not believe her husband survived, would lead her to him. And… in turn, I think he was much perplexed at the lengthy duration before anyone _did_ come to find them… though he was rarely in contact through the ordeal."

She swallowed. "Did he know about Cem? Before that?"

"I… believe he knew that there had once _been_ a fourth son, but had no reason to suspect he'd survived the invasion that killed the others, besides Jagged and his youngest sister."

And he'd certainly have had no way of knowing that Cem was serving in the Imperial Remnant and later in the Galactic Alliance, under an assumed name. "And did your… loyal forces, your nephew's soldiers, know what they were risking their lives for? Did they know that they were killing for a lie?"

Nabrin's voice was soft but hard. "The lives lost in the operation- on both sides- were an unfortunate result of the need to maintain appearances to the utmost, for those in the strike force who reported back to masters who truly desired to see all trace of the Fels erased from the Ascendancy. The risk could not be taken that they would force me to flee before my materials could be moved, I should think that would be obvious."

"I should think it would be obvious that my father and grandfather never viewed the lives of those who served beneath them so casually." His brow furrowed. "Syndic," she bit, "a Corvette crews nearly two-hundred- a heavy price for two lives, even by Thrawn's standards."

The outward appearance of the graying chiss was relatively unchanged, unmoved; but in the Force, she caught a flicker of surprise, a sudden burst of understanding, laced with… shock, almost distress. He shook his head slowly and closed his eyes, a mirthless laugh slipping past his dark lips. "It is no wonder you hold me in such disdain, child… yes, several were killed in the operation, the Aristocra's entire guard stubbornly fought to the bitter end and did significant damage to my nephew's forces. But… Jedi Fel, did you never realize that General Fel kept his most loyal servants from his days in the Hand closest by his side in the Ascendancy?" She blinked, confused. "Commander Suyani- she was among those taken prisoner in the aftermath of the raid."

"You mean… the commander who serves as military liaison back on base?"

Nabrin nodded once. "Many were uneasy at the situation, at the lie they were helping to create; but their loyalty to the general, fierce though it was, still came second to their sworn fealty to another."

"To Thrawn. Even in death, he commanded the loyalty of countless beings, didn't he?"

"Even some who never knew him," Nabrin reminded her quietly. "Such as your father."

Leyla felt a flash of irritation that she knew had less to do with the syndic's words and more to do with her utter uncertainty of how her father would react to the truth of all that had happened, from his imprisonment nine years ago, to Cem's disappearance and then her own… to the truth of the clone of Thrawn.

Maybe it was fear; fear that Cem was right when he asserted that his younger brother would have joined Thrawn without question, possibly at the cost of his family's peace-of-mind, as Cem had done.

As she had done?

No, not exactly. As much as Cem was here for Thrawn, if anything, she was here for Cem. But far beyond that, she was here for innocent life, for the lives that had already been lost before she was any the wiser about Ryoqim, Alpha Red, Torolis… and perhaps the Empire of the Hand had proven the most effective means of fighting the conflict, but in this… she was not a Fel. She could not look on Thrawn with the absolute trust and loyalty as Cem did, as her grandfather had once done. He was dangerous, his methods questionable and extreme, especially in the work done by Ghent and Karrde.

But her father…

Something had changed in Jagged Fel in the last decade. Most would attribute it to the experience of spending nine months in captivity and the drama that had ensued upon his escape, but Leyla wasn't so sure. It was undoubtedly part of it, but something just before that had affected him deeply, had caused him to question his continuing role in the Ascendancy: a conversation with _her_.

It had been a terrible conversation, one that she had been wholly unfair to spring upon him with no warning. But in a moment of extreme doubt and confusion, her eleven-year-old self had needed his candor, his honesty, the groundedness that had always kept her centered as a child. The side of him that readily acknowledged to her, when she was seven, that he was not her biological father as she had been raised to believe.

And when she was eleven, she'd come demanding answers, had forced him to unveil some awful truths about her parentage, about Kyp's fall towards the dark side during the war, about his relationship with her mother- things that were long past, things that were forgiven… but things that had been hidden from her.

But for Jag, in a time when factions within the Ascendancy were using his connection to Kyp Durron to discredit the Fels, it had proven too much. He'd resolved to resign his post as ambassador and return to Coruscant; hours later, he was reported dead. And since his return, he'd put everything into his family, had contented himself with a simple life on Ossus where he could watch his son grow up away from the hustle and bustle of Coruscant and could be near Leyla in the years before her apprenticeship with Kyp took her away from the academy.

Now, she couldn't help but think that Cem had been wrong- his brother would _not_ be in his place, without question, had Thrawn gone to him instead; especially not at the price of his family's peace-of-mind.

That conviction cleared a weight from her mind which she hadn't truly realized existed in the first place. And with it, something in her softened towards the syndic who had sacrificed so much in the effort to rectify his past mistakes.

X-X-X-X


	25. Chapter 24

**A/N: **My last 7 updates have been posted from 5 different states, so here's a post from New Jersey! :P

**Chapter 24**

_Csilla_

It took Csilla Space Defense approximately eight standard seconds to acknowledge the shuttle that came tearing out of hyperspace with a fury and began an immediate direct approach to the planet. Their own sensors indicated that a wing of Clawcraft fighters were headed in their direction moments before the console beeped with an incoming transmission. The cargo ship was nowhere to be seen.

Leyla, sitting in the co-pilot's seat, took over the controls as Nabrin accepted the call, a forced calm in his voice. He spoke in Cheunh, too fast for Leyla to pick up some of the exact words, but she understood enough. "Shuttle _Night Shadow_ acknowledging Space Defense; Defense, be advised that-"

A burst of static cut him off, and then a harsh voice cut him off. "_Night Shadow_, state your identity and your purpose here."

"I tracked a cargo ship here from the Ottega System," Nabrin maintained as cool a demeanor as he could muster. "Defense, that ship cannot be allowed to make atmosphere, it is highly dangerous and-"

"_Night Shadow_, state your identity or we will be forced to treat you as hostile."

Nabrin's eyes began to take on something of a wild frustration as he looked despairingly at Leyla. "Anything?"

She shook her head slowly; if Ryoqim's ship was not on their scanners, it meant one of two things, neither of them good: the first possibility was that he had purposefully misled them, and was headed somewhere else now; the second was that he had already entered Csilla's atmosphere and his presence was shielded by the planet and possibly by an escort. After a moment of desperate consideration, Leyla spoke softly. "Tell them who you are." He blinked in surprise. "If nothing else," she shrugged, "you'll certainly get their attention."

Looking like he was debating her sanity, Nabrin swallowed hard and keyed the comm again. "Defense, this is Csun'abr'inrokini- high syndic of the Third House on Csaus. And I am deadly serious when I say that the life of every chiss on Csilla is now endangered."

There was a lengthy pause- Leyla could practically see the sudden confusion and ensuing chaos as higher ups were consulted. For her part, she continued her steady course towards the planet, well-aware of the fact that her actions could be described as aggressive justification for the approaching fighters to try to shoot the shuttle down. Nabrin needed to persuade them soon that they did _not_ want to do that.

When someone else finally acknowledged them, the voice was heavier with authority, more demanding. "Syndic, this is Commander Na'czin; you will quit your present course immediately and surrender your vessel-"

"I cannot do that, Commander."

"Syndic," Na'czin bit, "the ship you profess to be a great danger to the planet is under heavy guard; more to the point, its pilot has followed our explicit instructions and not varied from his assigned course. If there is a danger, it will be dealt with accordingly. _You_, however, in refusing to adhere to procedure and protocol, will be viewed as a hostile threat if you do not alter your present heading."

Nabrin closed his eyes wearily. "Then he's already made atmosphere. We're too late." He opened the channel once more. "Commander, the threat comes not from the being in the ship but rather from a substance he carries- a pathogen that will quickly effect the deaths of every chiss on the planet, should he release it into the atmosphere." He sighed. "Aristocra Haun'arnt'inrokini can attest to my involvement in the Alpha Red project, from which this horror is derived." There was a lengthy pause. "I suggest you signal a bio-attack warning on the planet now- some lives may yet be saved."

Leyla guided the shuttle into the atmosphere; the approaching Clawcraft mirrored their movements, but did not fire upon them, something she took to be a good sign. As they crossed over the horizon onto the night side of the planet though, she finally picked up the Ithorian's shuttle on her scanners- moments before he veered sharply off-course and corresponding laser-fire lanced out from his own escort. "No! Syndic…!"

"Commander, he doesn't need to survive to kill billions! If the substance has already been released into his ship, a hull-breach will contaminate Csilla's atmosphere."

"I am running out of options, Syndic," the commander growled back. "If the ship even poses the threat you claim it to."

"It does," he bit shortly. "The being who pilots it has used this weapon to kill the bothans of Torolis and to orchestrate the war between the Ascendancy, the Empire, and the Galactic Alliance."

"The being who pilots provided diplomatic codes, Syndic."

Leyla bit her tongue to stop from snapping in her own annoyance; Nabrin did a good enough job of it in her stead. "He is a senator of the Ithorian remnant, I daresay he has access to several such codes. In any case, surely his actions now are verity of his ill-intent?"

"Syndic, if you have a recommendation for how to prevent him from exposing this pathogen to Csilla's atmosphere, I am quite content to listen."

"Wait," Leyla stopped him from responding. "Let's think about this- the other vials, they were on timers, yes?" Nabrin nodded, lips pursed in annoyance, not understanding what she was getting at. "Well, Ryoqim has no interest in dying if he doesn't take someone out with him. So would he have set the timer before being granted clearance to land on the planet?"

"Perhaps not."

"_Probably_ not," she corrected absently, even as she gained on the larger, bulkier ship that was flying an erratic course whilst the Clawcraft above it hovered but, apparently having been warned of the nature of the threat, did not fire. "And once it was apparent that he was unsuspected, would he have bothered? Or just waited until he touched down to release it, without bothering to utilize the timer mechanism?"

"Your point, Jedi Solo-Fel?"

"My point is that he knows he is discovered and has nothing left to lose. Once he realized that, he probably set the release-mechanism on the timer- as he has shown, he has no interest in risking the pathogen affecting _him_ before his own task it completed- thus, the timer used back at his base. Had he released it immediately, I would have been dead when my mask came off during the cavern-collapse."

He stared at her. "But… if you're even correct… we have no way of knowing how long we have."

She shook her head sadly. "It's better than nothing though."

"You're a Jedi, can't you do something?"

With a start, she glanced sidelong at him. "Like _what_?" she demanded.

"Use the Force to stop it."

"From _here_?"

"Then… I don't know! Aren't you supposed to be able to see into people's minds, make them do what you want?"

Her mouth worked incredulously for a moment before she spluttered scandalously, "If I were interested in the dark side, maybe!"

Nabrin did not turn to look at her again, but she felt the great sadness pouring off of him, at the knowledge that his failings were possibly moments away from having condemned billions of his own people to death. And as she maneuvered the shuttle into position behind the cargo ship, she battled with a decision she'd never dreamed she'd have to make.

She could feel Ryoqim's mind, it stood out amongst the minds of the chiss surrounding her. It was strange, foreign… she had never known any ithorians particularly well before, and beyond that, there was a deranged delusion at work that kept him closed off from her, more than was normal. But if she could delve inside his head just long enough…

Her father was gifted at such matters in the Force- and he had emphasized to her how dangerous the use of them was. When he was just a teenager, he had nearly destroyed the mind of the scientist who created the Death Stars, the Sun Crusher, so that she would never be able to do so again. When he was older… when Leyla was a little girl… he had used those powers to find her, had stolen memories from a Jedi spy for Red Hand, from Tahlia, and even from her aunt Mara, all in the interests of recovering her. And Mara had even given him her permission to do so, for the sake of appearances.

But her great-uncle Luke had also spoken of using the Force in similar ways, to confound the minds of enemies… and he, too, had warned of what a questionable realm of the Force using his powers in such a way had left him, until he'd become convinced that such powers were of the dark side.

But this was different.

Right?

How many Jedi who had fallen in the past had gone through such routes of self-justification before taking that final step that sent them over the edge? Leyla couldn't answer that question- but she did know one thing for sure.

Eight billion sentient chiss were running out of time.

"Take over," she murmured in a daze; Nabrin shot her a look. "Try to force him to ground without shooting at him; see if Commander Na'czin's forces can help you drive him over an unpopulated area."

"What are _you_ going to do?"

She swallowed. "I'm going to try to help you."

He wordlessly took control of the shuttle as she settled back in her seat, letting her eyes drift mostly closed, reaching out across the kilometer that separated them from the ithorian's ship, searching, feeling…

It was agony; a distant part of her mind registered what Zekk had been saying to her weeks ago, about the ends justifying the means, about betraying who she was, and as she fought deeper, felt the senator's sudden unease, confusion, as he registered something was wrong but couldn't quite comprehend what, she was angry, she was bitter at what she was forced to do, bitter at the way this had become _her_ burden when she'd never asked for it, had never asked to be snagged out of hyperspace leaving Eriadu with Vulcor… and she funneled that anger and bitterness inwards and used it to push further, to see from Ryoqim's eyes, to feel his frantic efforts to keep his old ship in the air, he only needed another eight minutes before it wouldn't matter anymore, he couldn't let that brat of a girl win, not after the way she had brought down everything he'd worked for, all of his plans to teach the galaxy a lesson for its failings for his people, for his beautiful planet, now a charred and ruined wasteland, surrounded by a galaxy triumphant, a galaxy that had forgotten about Ithor in the wake of its victory, a galaxy that deserved no better and never would again until they understood true despair, true anguish…

There was a jolting sort of pain and a hoarse scream; it wasn't until Nabrin touched her arm, sparing precious attention from flying, that she realized the sound had come from her own throat. "He's down, a squad has been summoned out of Csaplar," the chiss assured her. "Is he…?"

"Go back," she gasped, even as he was swinging the shuttle around to pass back over the spot where the cargo ship had made an ungainly but intact landing, skidding across ice-fields, "go back. We have less than eight minutes." She fumbled frantically with her crash-webbing, checked to make sure her lightsaber was secured on her belt, and reached for the small compartment where Nabrin had stored the precious container, the vacuum-sealed box that would trap the pathogen and keep the peoples of Csilla safe. "Get me as low as you can and open the hatch."

He shot a startled look over his shoulder, even as he maneuvered carefully closer to the downed ship. "The cold, Jedi Fel… you need a thermal-suit, your cloak is hardly sufficient for these temperatures."

"No time. And, you know… Jedi. Are you ready?"

"Five seconds."

She positioned herself, one hand gripping the rail just inside the hatch where the ramp would normally descend. The ship wobbled under a gust of heavy wind as Nabrin slowed it, hovering on repulsors- and then with just a moment of warning, the hatch opened with a hiss and a blast of cold air rushed into the shuttle. Taking just a moment to assess the conditions on the ground, she released the rail, leapt forward, and put her concentration into slowing her descent, lest she break a leg on the unforgiving ice of the frozen planet.

X-X-X-X

_Bastion_

Ashik hated feeling useless. The worst had been the days after the supposed assassination of Jag, Soontir, and Aristocra Formbi, on a trip to the outer colonies; a trip for which his boss, the ambassador, had told him to stay behind. He had stayed behind, had done the tasks assigned him, had handled communications from the ambassador's wife and daughter… and then had felt the devastating wave of failure upon receiving the news that the Fels were dead, mere minutes after conferring with the ambassador's wife.

When he'd received the wholly unexpected communiqué from his former employer's sister, asking that he meet with Major Davik Antell, his first instinct was to be suspicious. But one look at Antell had served to convince him that all was not as it seemed; even for an Imperial, Antell carried himself with a stiff determination that spoke to an upbringing in Chiss society. And in the months that followed, as he allied himself with the Fel-family shadow-child in the interests of learning the truth and seeking justice, as they traveled to Csilla and then Coruscant, and then to Yaga Minor to liaise with Zekk and Tahlia, the uselessness had given way to a different sort of purpose.

Now, Ashik felt not only useless, but wholly confounded. For hours, he and Soontir paid keen attention to the happenings with the engagement among the Chiss, the Empire, and the Galactic Alliance. Until, finally, the news had been passed down through Admiral Nhylatich that a fourth force was present for and largely directing the focus of the battle.

The Empire of the Hand- longtime secret empire, forged by the hand of Thrawn, eventually disbanded and largely integrated into the Ascendancy, as the Fels had been. And at the helm- Cem.

Relief that Cem was alive was nearly outweighed by Ashik's confusion, confusion that only compounded in the last twelve hours as word had reached them that hostilities were ceased, that Niathal was stepping down and transferring command to Gavin Darklighter, that the forces of the bothans and Sorosuub were also immediately standing down- at the same time that the flagship of the forces of the Hand, the Star Destroyer from which Cem was directing the battle… had disappeared without warning, following a hasty transfer-of-command of the rest of his ships to Admiral Reige.

Twelve hours later, the chaos was still being sorted through.

Wearied and contented that the present conflict was at an end, Soontir finally retired to get some rest. Ashik sighed and went to do the same, but stopped as he passed the door of the room Naviin was sharing with Ashlin. The children had been put to sleep hours earlier, but a muffled sound caught his ear and he glanced in, glowing eyes piercing the dark of the room.

Naviin was sitting up in his bed, and he looked over, startled, at the intruder. Another sniffle was poorly-suppressed, and Ashik beckoned the boy forward. He hesitantly climbed from bed and followed the chiss to the kitchen, where he climbed quietly onto a chair as Ashik poured him a glass of milk. He settled down opposite the boy and eyed him questioningly. Naviin looked mildly chagrined, but Ashik spoke softly, reassuringly. "Your parents are well; you should be able to see them tomorrow."

He nodded glumly, eyes still red.

"Something else troubles you?"

Naviin spoke to the table, words choked. "It's Leyla. I think she's in trouble."

X-X-X-X

_Csilla_

It was cold. For a moment, that was all she could register as she rolled heavily to her side, as a gust of wind threatened to knock her over once more. Her hands were bare and already practically numb as she scrambled to her feet and sucked in a breath that felt like air freezing her lungs in her chest. Drawing on the Force, she did her best to insulate what little warmth she could, to at least keep her hands and legs working as she struggled over the icy ridge, the gash in the otherwise smooth perfection, left by the skidding ship that lay fifty meters before her.

A quick exertion in the Force summoned the vacuum-sealed container from where she had rolled away from it after falling. Too bulky to fit inside the pocket of her cloak, she tucked it under one arm as she struggled her way against the wind.

Ten paces away from the aft-end of the ship, the hatch opened and the silver blade of her lightsaber was up in a flash, yet still barely in time to catch the flash of blaster fire- and she wondered just how much havoc the extreme cold was wreaking on her reflexes. Another shot was deflected down into the ice near her feet, and it sizzled, water evaporating instantly under the high temperature.

And then the figure of Ryoqim- tall, imposing, menacing in a way that was like a mockery of the gentle-hearted ithorian species- was slipping away from the hatch, using the mass of the ship to keep cover between the two of them; not that he need have bothered. Leyla, foolishly, was not carrying a blaster.

But she did have the Force. Grimacing, fighting against the piercing cold, she gathered her strength and, rather than go around the ship, went up on top of it. She came down in a crouch, using her hands to balance herself- the intense cold of the durasteel of the hull was painful against her exposed palms- and ignoring the pain, she sprang lightly across it and flipped off the other side, twisting as she fell to land in front of and facing the ithorian.

His bulbous eyes narrowed, and she shook her head, lightsaber ignited and in guard position before her. "It's over," she called to him over the rushing wind. "Give me the vial and you needn't die here, like this."

"The Ascendancy would not readily forgive my actions," Ryoqim pointed out sardonically, tauntingly.

"Then you can come back to Coruscant and face trial there."

Time was ticking quickly by. "I think not," he sighed, seeming to weigh and consider his blaster in one hand, the black canister in the other. "They wouldn't understand. None of you do."

"I understand enough to know that you're confused about _this_," she said, edging closer to him. "The Ascendancy has had no part in this, they do not deserve this."

"None are exempt from their just punishment," he hissed suddenly, bringing his blaster to bear once more.

Leyla barely had time to deflect the first shot. By the second, she had her bearings enough to send the ricochet back at him; it struck his left leg, above the knee area, and he roared in pain. And with that distraction, she reached out in the Force and wrenched the canister from his hand, practically sensing the deadly purpose within, knowing that she wasn't yet too late, she still had time. Another quick exertion sent his blaster spinning away, skidding across slick ice, out of reach.

The ithorian had fallen to his knees in pain, one hand clasped against his upper leg. Wary, Leyla crouched down herself, pulling the case from under her arm, gently placing the deadly vial within. She closed the lid, and a tingle ran down her spine; a glance at the wounded senator assured that he was not in any position to come after her, had no other weapon. Reaching quickly to depress the button to seal the box, she saw the ithorian open his two mouths…

Her finger was centimeters away when the world shook around her, sent her stumbling backwards to land heavily onto her back. A ringing filled her ears, there was a dull sort of pressure in her head, and she reached up, eyes squeezed shut, arms shaking as she gingerly touched her hand to the side of her head, realized that blood was pooling in both of her ears and dripping down to stain the ice beneath her head. And it took her far too long to register, in her paralyzing pain, through the buzzing in her head and the deafness in her ears, that this was not the result of some concussion grenade… but rather, was simply the work of a creature with the capability of emitting a concussive scream through its four throats and two mouths.

The wrenching sound of metal forced her eyes open and Ryoqim was before her, favoring his injured leg, but standing tall as he used those deceptively strong hands with their long, brittle fingers to tear the top of the case from its hinges. He didn't even bother to retrieve the vial of Alpha Red, knew as well as she did that she had drastically underestimated him, had underestimated his ability to fight the pain of the blaster ricochet, had underestimated the weapons he possessed in his hands, in his lungs.

And he knew, as well as she, that she was going to die.

She couldn't move; she could barely hear. The wind battered her body, whipped it with shocking cold, cold that was starting to settle numbingly into her very bones as she struggled to clear her head, to find her peace in the Force, struggled to even move away from him as he approached her, as he knelt before her… as he wrapped those unnaturally strong fingers around her throat and yanked her upright.

She scrambled for purchase with legs she could barely feel, found herself shaking and kneeling, gripping at his hands, as his fingers tightening slowly around her neck, restricting her air-flow.

A Jedi could live without air far longer than an average being of most any oxygen-breathing species; but even a Jedi could not live with a crushed windpipe and a broken neck which, as she tried desperately to claw at his arms with numb fingers, seemed to be Ryoqim's intention. Her panic and pain were preventing her from tapping into the Force as she should, from finding a way to get away from him, but as she fought, she caught a glint of silver from the corner of her eye and, letting her eyes drift closed, relaxed as much as she was able, even as he must surely be moments away from killing her with one swift squeeze…

The sound of the shot couldn't even be heard above the wind; but the sound of his roar, as he suffered a second blaster burn, echoed around inside her head, sent another wave of pain through her traumatized ear drums.

Ryoqim's grip loosened as he turned his attention towards the direction of the shot, Leyla exerted her last energies in the Force… and a swift thrust upward sent the silver blade of her lightsaber straight through the ithorian's body, burning a hole through his tunic as the blade pierced his chest.

As the life drained out of him, he released her, and she fell backwards again, lightsaber dropping loose in her hand, the silver blade nearly invisible against the backdrop of ice on this forsaken, frigid world. In an absent sort of fascination, she watched as the ice evaporated in an instant beneath the energy-blade before she retained the presence-of-mind to switch it off as she closed her eyes, breathing heavily, numb and stunned.

Her reprieve was short-lived. A hand gripped her arm- and she could feel it, so that was something- and a voice was barely heard, shouting over the wind. "Come on, get up! You have to move, Leyla!" She tried to say something, anything, but the effort of just acquiring enough air to breathe was using all of her energy. "Come on," he pulled her upright and she suppressed a groan of pain, but the effort of finding her feet, even as she leaned heavily on Nabrin, helped her focus.

Ryoqim- dead. The pathogen- not yet released, but the containment box damaged. Time- running short.

With effort, she slipped her lightsaber into the pocket of her cloak and struggled forward, noting vaguely that Nabrin had already recovered the Alpha Red vial. He grabbed her hand and pulled her, not towards his shuttle, but towards the closer ship, the cargo vessel which Ryoqim had crashed. The movement got the blood flowing, helped her connect again with the Force, and she pushed aside the pain, the buzzing dizziness, and moved faster of her own volition, trailing the chiss by only a couple of steps into the ship.

"Seal the hatch," he shouted over his shoulder.

She did as told, checking the pressure seals twice to make sure that they were sufficiently contained and cut off from the exterior air of the icy planet. The feeling was gradually returning to her numb fingers, as the adrenaline started flowing again. "Can you stop the countdown of the timer?" she called after him, voice rough and hoarse, as he hurried with the canister to the cockpit, where the lighting was better. For a terse moment, he didn't respond.

"Maybe," but he sounded unsure. "I won't know until I can get the casing open. Jedi Fel, check the cargo hold and see if any more of these god-forsaken devices are lying in wait."

She supposed it would have been just like Ryoqim to lead her away from the ship, distract her with recovering one vial, while another sat undisturbed back in his ship. It was a small ship, and did not take her long to locate the cargo area, which was mostly empty. What storage space was being used seemed to be occupied by non-perishable rations and hydration packs, other odds and ends that might assist in long term survival for one on the run. There were a handful of compartments, however, that could well have been hiding more of the Alpha Red derivative, so she crouched low and carefully opened the doors one-by-one, and gingerly poked through the sparse contents. As she was opening the last door, a sudden tingle of danger ran down her spine, and heavy footsteps sounded behind her.

She made to spin around, but was gripped firmly around the shoulders and something descended over her mouth, even as she attempted to gather her sporadic strength and fight back. Choking and struggling, it took her several seconds to realize that she could still breathe, even as she tried to throw off the grip- with a final burst from the Force, she succeeded in sending her assailant backwards, even as a low voice murmured, "Stop fighting."

Whirling, she stared in confusion at Nabrin while she brought her hands up to the breath mask he had slapped over her face. "No!" he commanded. "Leave it."

And with a sickening jolt, she realized that they had been too late to stop the release of the pathogen, and could only hope that the ship was as airtight as the systems indicated, that the crash-landing had not compromised the seals. Another horrifying realization struck her though- it was not _she_ who should be wearing the air filter.

Nabrin must have read the confusion in her eyes, and he smiled sadly. "It is too late for me- it was too late the same instant it was released into the air. But you are human- even if your biology is susceptible to this strain, it should not be as deadly, nor as fast-acting- the mask may yet save your life. Don't take it off."

Her stunned silence lasted ten more seconds- until the elderly chiss stumbled, his breathing suddenly more labored, and she hurried over to him even as he began to sink slowly to the ground. Lowering him gently, half with her own strength and half with the Force, she felt the first welling of tears in her eyes at the unfairness of it all, now that they were _so_ close…

"Jedi Fel," he murmured. "Leyla- do not pity me. I unleashed this horror into the galaxy, good intentions be damned. It is fitting that I should die of it…"

"No," she choked, "it isn't. You've spent twenty years working tirelessly to right the wrong…"

His lips quirked a bit wistfully. "And how better to right that wrong than to have died saving my own people?" His voice was fading fast. "What warrior could wish for a better death?"

The tears spilled over and she wondered how she could have prevented this- she could have insisted he stay outside the ship while she tried to disarm the timer mechanism- but at the same time, a small place in the back of her mind was awed at the grace of the passing being, the calm and gentle acceptance of what must come. "I didn't mean for this to happen," she said thickly.

"Of course you didn't, my dear. But I am old, and I do not mind giving my life for my people… giving my life for one such as you…" His eyes drifted closed, and when he spoke again, he had shifted to Cheunh without even realizing, apparently. "Give my crest to Mitth'raw'nuruodo…" he murmured, "and tell him…"

His breathing was shallow and the words were mumbled and jumbled together. "Yes?" Leyla prompted quietly. "What should I tell Thrawn?"

"Tell him that he… chose wisely…"

His ragged voice died as he slipped into a deep unconsciousness, and Leyla knew that he did not have long to live. She had not seen the effects of the pathogen up close like this, and was part-horrified, part-grateful at the speed and relative ease of it all. Thinking back, she could only hope that it had been this quick and simple for the millions of bothans who had died on Torolis six weeks ago.

For two minutes, she stayed sitting on the ground, his head in her lap, tears spilling over her cheeks, and then sliding down around the contours of the mask that rested over her nose and mouth; one hand clasped one of Nabrin's wrinkled blue ones, and the other lay on top of his chest, over his heart, feeling the beat that grew softer and more erratic, even as the spark of his life faded quickly from the Force.

And at last, with a last rise and fall of his chest, a last stuttered few beats of his heart, and a single convulsion that shuddered across his otherwise still body- Nabrin was dead.

She sat for another minute, trying to control her grief even as her muddled mind tried to work through what to do now. With the pathogen in the air, she couldn't leave the ship without releasing it and condemning every chiss on Csilla to sudden death. The ship probably had a self-destruct sequence she could activate, but she wasn't even sure if that would be suitable to destroy the substance before it leaked into the atmosphere.

The patch on the left breast of Nabrin's tunic showed the crest of the Ascendancy, overlaid with the Inrokini colors and the symbol of the position of syndic. Leyla unclipped it and ran her fingers lightly over it a moment before tucking it in a pouch on her utility belt. Gently moving the grey-haired head from her lap, she rested it down on the deck, and then removed her heavy outer-cloak and draped it across his upper body, respectfully concealing his face- peaceful in death- from sight. With a last shuddering sigh, she pulled herself shakily to her feet and staggered to the cockpit- where the canister of deadly pathogen was sitting innocently on the control board.

Her only option was simple enough- she only regretted that she wouldn't have the opportunity to follow through on Nabrin's last wish. But the ship was contaminated, the escape pods were contaminated, and the only way to ventilate the ship would be to cycle the air outside- surely a ship of this size would not possess the heavy-duty air scrubbers afforded large warships which never saw atmosphere. Her search through the cargo hold had not uncovered any spare oxygen-canisters, nor did a cursory look around the cockpit.

She had one hour of air. Not enough time to go much of anywhere and even if it were- she could not release the substance. Even if she found an inhabitable planet in this region not colonized by chiss, she could not risk the mutation of the substance, the mutation that would likely kill _her_ once her hour of oxygen was up, when the pathogen had no other living hosts to invade.

Communications were still down in this region; she could not even send a message to precede the ship before going to hyperspace, were she to try to go to base, where surely the extra quantities of the counter-pathogen were stored. And the last thing she would want was for her ship to emerge from orbit near the small planetoid, with her possibly unconscious, probably dead… and if they towed her in…

Vulcor was on base. Olyxes was on base. Dozens of innocent chiss and eickarie were there.

Even beyond that- the possibility of the contaminated ship falling into the wrong hands…

No, the ship had to be destroyed, and she had no choice but be destroyed with it- but it couldn't happen here.

X-X-X-X


	26. Chapter 25

**Summer314-**_Things are looking dire for Leyla, who sees no other option than to sacrifice herself... maybe this is why you chose the story title? Although I'm still hoping she'll have a happy ending..._

**Glad you're still enjoying. :-) The story title ended up being more multi-fold in its meaning as I wrote the last chapters of the story, but Leyla's situation here certainly inspired the title choice (which is based on a line from the last story, actually). **

**Chapter 25**

_Csilla_

A red light was flashing on the alien control board; hesitating a moment, she depressed the button below it and found herself inundated with a steady stream of Cheunh warnings, and she struggled to make sense of the fast speech. Pressing what she assumed to be the transmit button, she leaned over the speaker and spoke in basic and then awkwardly repeated in Cheunh. "This is Jedi Leyla Solo-Fel, I have secured the hostile freighter and the pathogen, please acknowledge."

There was a pause, and then a heavily-accented basic rang out, the same voice of the commander, Na'czin. "We were of the impression that Syndic Csun'abr'inrokini flew alone."

"He misled you," she said shortly. "And now he's dead."

A longer pause greeted that statement. "How?" the voice grew sharper.

"We were too late to stop the release of the pathogen but, for now, it is contained inside the vessel. I do not yet know if I am affected, but I need to get this ship off-planet to ensure that it is not released into your atmosphere."

"To go where?"

She swallowed thickly. "Nowhere," she spoke faintly. "Just far enough away so that when you destroy the freighter, the pathogen will die with the vacuum."

The ensuing silence was the longest yet, and then a new voice, more practiced with basic than the previous one, spoke to her. "This is Aristocra Adr'igi'sabosen; with whom am I speaking?"

"Jedi Knight Leyla Solo-Fel."

"Fel?" he hesitated. "You… are the granddaughter of Soontir Fel."

"Yes."

"And you offer your life to keep this substance contained?"

She bit back a huff of frustration. They were wasting time. "Aristocra, I have no choice," she bit. "I have an hour of oxygen and then, after that, I _have _to assume that the pathogen will mutate and mold itself to a human immune system; it is not so very different from a chiss's. So in less than that hour, _I _need to ensure that this all was not for naught. And you can either help me do it my way, or force me to find the self-destruct protocols and risk contaminating your planet by doing it here."

The voice sounded a bit strange. "What do you need?"

"A language interface transmitted to me," she replied immediately. "I don't understand Ithorese. Basic if you have it- if not, Cheunh will suffice."

"You will have it shortly. Is there anything else?" But she couldn't respond, and leaned heavily against the pilot's seat, throat tight and uncooperative. "Jedi Solo-Fel, if there is anyone we can help you locate… family…?"

"No," she gasped in a strangled voice. "No. I- it is better this way."

"They will know how you died," the voice assured her briskly, a layer of respect now present that had not been in his voice at first. "And Csilla will forever be in your debt, and that of the syndic."

A long sigh escaped her; again, she regretted the impossible last request from Nabrin. "Thank you," she whispered.

X-X-X-X

The rise above the planet was eerie, and Leyla found herself in a calm state of acceptance, after the initial distress of her situation. But Nabrin was right- a meaningful death was better than a worthless one, and to go willingly to hers in the effort to save a planetful of beings- even beings who had shunned her and her family- it wasn't such a bad end.

The worst part was fighting the urge to reach out in the Force and touch the connections she shared with her mother and father, with her little brother… with Vulcor, who had been the ultimate source of frustration, comfort, and confusing feelings for the better part of the past few months. But reaching out to express her regret and her farewells, while it might have brought _her_ some closure, would only make the ensuing few minutes unbearably painful for her family when they realized what was to come and that they had no means of stopping it.

When she had risen through the cold and cloudy atmosphere of the planet, clawcraft escorts on either side, she took a deep breath and set a very basic course- up and out. And in a few short minutes, she was several thousand kilometers out of the upper atmosphere, and another few minutes after that, she was far enough away that she was out of the inner orbit where she risked wreckage crashing back to the planet eventually.

And then she was far enough away that she could not put it off any longer. Her hands stilled at the controls of the small, lightly-armed cargo ship; drawing a deep breath, she raised her eyes to the viewport and stared at the scene before her.

The kilometer-long, needle-like Star Destroyer hovered ominously a hundred kilometers ahead; its launch bays sat inactive, though she had little doubt that the complement starfighter squadrons sat ready to launch, should it prove necessary. She didn't think it would be necessary.

They probably didn't either, given the four assault cruisers and accompanying Clawcraft which were mirroring her ship's movements rather effectively. She came around slightly- the cruisers and Clawcraft matched the slight maneuver with clinical precision- and stared at the blue-grey icy world beyond the other ships.

She had been born on Csilla, had spent the first year and a half of her life there, had been back to it a dozen times before the age of eleven, before circumstances forced the Fels to abandon the Ascendancy for good. Somehow, that fact- the fact that _this_ was her home world in a way that Coruscant could never be- was ironically fitting.

And as she fought to calm herself, to find that inner peace, it occurred to Leyla that it was strangely poetic, when all was said, that she should meet her end at the hands of the Chiss after all.

"I'm ready," she whispered aloud but to herself.

The war was over, assuming Thrawn and Cem and Reige had talked down the rebellious forces in Imperial Space. The galaxy was a shambles, but Leyla had faith that, as in times past, it would be rebuilt, better and stronger than before, and she knew that her family, and the rest of the Jedi, would be instrumental to that success, and the thought gave her some small comfort. Naviin would grow up happy and stable, as would little Ashlin. Her mother and stepfather had Navi, and Kyp had Gennevi…

Yes, she was ready.

The heavily-accented male was back on her comm. "We will wait for your signal, Jedi Solo-Fel."

She did not falter. "I am ready, Commander."

"Your sacrifice humbles us." He paused. "If there is-" he cut off even as her own proximity alarms began blaring, drowning out the comm so she wasn't even sure if he continued speaking. Whirling around, she found the sensor display and her mouth went dry, even as she angled the freighter around to face the massive ship that had reverted with dangerous proximity to the planet.

_The Hand_.

Shields and weapons were powering up on the CEDF ships, though everything else seemed to freeze for a moment. "No, wait," she called back into the comm. "They aren't your enemies…"

"You know who this force belongs to?" the commander snapped, the accent coming through even more heavily. "You have led them here to us?"

"No…" her voice was faint, but before she could formulate a possible explanation for what the Star Destroyer was doing here over Csilla, a loud and steady voice transmitted across all frequencies.

"This is Captain Cem Fel aboard _The Hand_- I'm looking for my niece, Leyla Solo-Fel, and Syndic Csun'abr'inrokini."

She couldn't have responded if she'd wanted to. Happily, the commander of the Chiss forces spoke up. "Captain Fel, this is Commander Na'czin of the Chiss Defense Fleet; who do you represent?"

Cem's voice was heavy with authority. "The same force represented by my niece and the syndic, Commander- the Empire of the Hand."

Leyla could practically sense the calculating and urgent shift in the minds of the chiss aboard the nearby vessels. Then, after a long pause, Na'czin switched back over to her frequency. "Jedi Solo-Fel, does your uncle speak the truth?" he asked a bit harshly.

"He does," she muttered. "But I did not ask him to come and I do not know why he is here."

"He is looking for you, I daresay you should answer him."

She swallowed heavily at the way this was getting out of hand, after the effort to make this fast and simple. Keying her frequency over to that of the newly arrived Star Destroyer, she spoke thickly. "I'm here, Cem."

"The syndic?"

"Dead." She took a deep breath. "Cem, you should go."

After a brief silence, the smooth voice of Thrawn replaced Cem's hard tones. "Jedi Solo-Fel, we will pull you aboard now. Standby for tractor-lock."

"No, wait…!"

"Leyla, your concern is admirable, but I can assure you that there is no danger; surely you don't truly believe that precautions against just such an incident have not been taken?"

She hesitated. "I…"

Cem's voice rang across all frequencies again. "Commander, we will take charge and responsibility for the compromised freighter, your forces can stand down."

The bristle of irritation could be heard in the commander's voice. "My forces do not answer to your Empire, Captain Fel, and shall remain between that freighter and the planet until the freighter is either destroyed or you can verify the threat of the bio-weapon nullified, are we clear?"

"Inescapably so," Cem returned frostily. "Leyla, standby."

X-X-X-X

It was with a jittery sense of absurdity that she powered down the freighter in the isolated hangar of _The Hand_, wondering how she had so far underestimated Thrawn. Of _course_ he had just such a precaution in place- in this case, an improved airlock system aboard the Star Destroyers of the Empire of the Hand that allowed for greater control over isolating sectors of the ship; and he had specifically isolated one hangar so that a ship suspected of carrying the weapon could be directed there, closed off, and the air purified once the ship's airlock was broken and the sector contaminated.

More importantly perhaps was the fact- which should have been remarkably obvious- that Nabrin had spent years developing an airborne counter to the bio-weapon, that killed it upon contact- and it had already been dispersed through the entire ventilation system of the Star Destroyer.

Nevertheless, Leyla still thought Thrawn a fool for strolling nonchalantly through the deserted hangar, even as the air scrubbers went to work, and meandering up the ramp of the freighter. She could feel his approaching presence, but said nothing as she sank slowly to the ground in the cargo bay once more, finally understanding that this had been Nabrin's plan all along, that _he_ must have sent a message, or told Ghent to send a message, telling Cem and Thrawn where they were going and what they were doing, in case they failed to prevent the pathogen's release. And even if the operation had gone smoothly, there would have been no guarantee of the attitude the Ascendancy took towards either Nabrin- who was wanted for high treason- or Leyla, whose ties to the Ascendancy had been cut nine years prior.

The irony of it was, of course, that had they arrived a minute, maybe even seconds later, she would have had the meaningless death she thought she was avoiding; and then she felt bad, like she had somehow dishonored Nabrin's sacrifice by the readiness with which she had accepted her own imminent demise.

As she heard the hollow footsteps on the ramp, she reached up and ripped the breath mask from her face in angered frustration, and flung the mask, tube, and clean-air canister across the hold, where it clattered against a box of freeze-dried rations and bounced back towards the doorway, just as black-booted feet appeared.

"I'd say you shouldn't be here," Leyla didn't bother looking up as she spoke, "but if that were true, you'd already be dead."

There was a moment of hesitation before he sat down on the ground on the other side of the lifeless body, still concealed by her cloak. "He went quickly then?" Thrawn asked softly.

She leaned back against a bulkhead and closed her eyes, sighing and shaking, shivering. "Quickly, and proudly- honorably."

"Then I hope he has found respite from the torment that has plagued him these long years."

"He did," she assured him faintly, finally opening her eyes to find red ones peering intently back and her. "Nabrin was honored to die for his people." She fumbled clumsily at the pouch on her utility belt, and pulled out the crest from his uniform. "He bade me give you this and…" she took a deep breath, willing herself not to lose control again, not here, not now, not in front of the stoic chiss. "He said to tell you that you 'chose wisely,' though I'm afraid I was unable to understand anything else he might have said by way of explanation."

Thrawn's eyes flickered sadly as he glanced twice between the wearied Jedi girl and the body of an old friend. "It is no matter," he assured her. "I know of what he spoke- something of a debate between us." He ran the stiff fabric of the crest between long, blue fingers, and then clenched it tightly in a fist. "It is no matter," he repeated softly.

Leyla fought to suppress a new bout of shivering; since her planet-side jaunt, she'd struggled to warm herself back up but it had been very much a secondary concern, given her sense of impending doom. But now that the adrenaline of the moment was past, her head was starting to feel a bit muddled and the ringing was returning to her ears. Absently reaching up, she touched two fingers to her left earlobe and noted idly that she was bleeding again.

Drawing her hand away again, she started when her wrist was gripped firmly; Thrawn noted the blood on her fingers and released her, reaching up and tilting her head gently to look at one ear. "You're injured," he commented. She shrugged listlessly. "What happened to you?"

"Ithorians- they can scream very _loudly_."

He actually started in surprise, and Leyla vaguely regretted the fact that she was too apathetic at the moment to focus on committing the reaction to memory. "It's a wonder you aren't thoroughly deafened."

She shivered and leaned back again, closing her eyes. "He was injured and I think… he was struggling in the cold… and with the wind…"

"How long were you exposed?" Thrawn demanded sharply.

"I don't- five minutes?"

He pulled the collar of her flight suit down slightly, taking in the red welts that were rising across her neck from where Ryoqim's thin fingers had strangled her; and then his hand was back at her face, pressing against her forehead and then one cheek before he gripped her chin and tilted her head back down. "Open your eyes. Leyla, look at me."

Slowly forcing them open, she found herself wanting nothing more than to simply go to sleep, and wished she had a warm blanket to curl up with and escape the glowing eyes that were staring piercingly at her. "Stop," she muttered tiredly. "Let go."

He did so and stood quickly. Relieved at the reprieve to close her eyes again and rest, she was greatly irritated when the sound of cabinets and drawers opening and closing kept her awake. "Can you stand?" She grumbled under her breath and wrapped her arms around herself. "Sit up." A hand at one shoulder encouraged her in the effort, and then something warm was being draped around her shoulders and wrapped across her body. Unconsciously burrowing into the warmth of the thermal blanket, she cracked her eyes open again in time to see Thrawn pull a comlink from his belt. He murmured into it for several seconds but she couldn't make out the Cheunh words above the steadily rising buzzing in her ears and the grogginess in her head.

When he next spoke, it was in Basic and much closer by her side, making her start slightly. "Leyla, you're suffering moderate hypothermia. Even a chiss would be hard-pressed to withstand the winter temperatures of Csilla for more than a few minutes without proper thermal protection."

"I didn't mean for him to die…"

Who was dead again? Images of the dead ithorian were flitting vaguely through her brain- the sizzling noise of snow and ice vaporizing in an instant under her lightsaber, the silver of the blade all but invisible against the wintry backdrop… and Syndic Csun'abr'inrokini yanking her to her feet, hurrying her back to the alien cargo ship, abandoning the sleek chiss shuttle… idly, she wondered if they should go and retrieve it, the syndic might miss it… but the syndic was dead too, wasn't he…?

A dreamlike memory of being a little girl of five, perhaps, on one of their semi-annual trips to Csilla… daddy was working but she wanted to go out and play in the snow, and mommy had helped her bundle up, and the two of them went outside, under the watchful eye of Ashik who had gracefully accepted the snowball she had thrown, giggling, to hit him in the shoulder…

Csilla never thawed, but it had been a warmer season and the thermal layers had gotten warm for her and she was warm now, uncomfortably so, and she wriggled her shoulders out from the blanket and felt the cold air again, before a vague awareness of someone pulling the cover back up over her made her want to cry out in protest as she struggled to move her arms- but they were being pinned by her sides as a voice ordered her sharply, "Stop struggling!" and moments later a weight pressed over her mouth and nose and she gasped for breath before she realized that it was only a breath mask and Nabrin was trying to make sure she survived, even if he had no chance to live… but Nabrin was already dead, wasn't he…?

Voices and footsteps invaded her buzzing and groggy consciousness and she felt arms go around her shoulders and under her knees, and gather her up, blanket and all. More voices…

"…_sir, we can take her from here…"_

"_I've got her."_

"_Captain-"_

"_I have her, Sergeant."_

Forcing her eyes open one last time, she wished she hadn't, as the ceiling bounced by nauseatingly with each footstep, but she managed to fix her gaze on the polished pin of the lapel of her carrier, noting vaguely the insignia for both captain and fleet commander… and then hazel eyes were looking down at her in concern and he smiled through the worry. "You've done well, Leyla. It's all over."

She closed her eyes and surrendered to the blackness.

X-X-X-X


	27. Chapter 26

**Chapter 26**

_Imperial Space – _The Trucemaker

The call for Admiral Reige came through from Admiral Nhylatich who had long since returned with elements of the Home Fleet back to Bastion; Reige, in turn, relayed the information to Admiral Darklighter, who excused himself from the ongoing talks between Reige, Spa'rein and Tsel'oru'nuruodo, Lord Viholn of Senex, Traest Kre'fey, Jai Venn of Sullust and Sorosuub, and Darklighter himself. An eclectic bunch, to be sure, and lacking in representation from the Empire of the Hand, as none were willing to sit down in Captain Fel's place, but the pieces of the puzzle were slowly being filled in- much to the horror of all who were present.

It did not take long for the summoned group to appear, and they wasted no time on pleasantries. There was tension in all of their faces, but it was Jag who was- uncharacteristically- most impassioned. "Any word on what became of _The Hand_?" he demanded almost immediately.

Darklighter nodded slowly, drawing the four of them to a semi-private corner of the bridge, taking in the expressions ranging from concern to frustration in the four pairs of eyes of the Fels and Durrons. "She's just turned up at Bastion," he informed them. "Captain Fel reports that Leyla is with them."

Jaina scowled expectantly. "That's it?"

"Not… exactly," he fought from wincing. "He also reports that she is being transferred to the med center in the Imperial Palace for some… specialized medical attention."

"For what?" Kyp asked sharply.

He shrugged a bit helplessly. "The specialized treatment is, purportedly, for acoustic trauma in both ears; he did not elaborate. Furthermore, she has been undergoing treatment aboard _The Hand_ after suffering moderate hypothermic shock following a brief but damaging duration of exposure to the planet of Csilla."

"Csilla," Jag murmured. "What in blazes was Leyla doing on Csilla?"

The admiral frowned and shook his head. "According to your brother- winning the silent war."

X-X-X-X

_Imperial Palace – Bastion_

Less than three hours later, Jag, Jaina, Kyp, and Gennevi were being escorted through immaculate halls of the impressive structure of the Remnant's seat of government. It was a winding route to the med center which lay near the middle of the palace, and the unfamiliarity of her surroundings made Jaina anxious. She supposed though that they would have to get used to it, since Nhylatich had arranged temporary accommodations for the four of them at least for the duration of Leyla's recovery- possibly longer, given that the peace-talks were being formally relocated to Bastion as the commanders in question got their forces' repairs affected and the like. Which meant that the Coruscant-based GA government would be sending representatives, as well as the Jedi.

Their guide, a humorless young man in a starched grey uniform, waved an identichip before the sensor outside a wide, official-looking doorway; it slid open, admitting them into the ward beyond, and that was when Jaina realized that Leyla was being treated in a private wing. She wondered if that was a courtesy, a necessity, or a precaution, though a precaution from _what_, she could not say.

She could sense her daughter's unconscious form, knew which room she was in before the guide stopped there, and waited impatiently as he handed access cards to Jag and Kyp with codes to get them into their temporary quarters, as well as access back into the med ward. "The medics will be along shortly," he informed them stiltedly and, with a nod, disappeared as they entered the room.

Leyla looked tiny in the hospital bed. Her face was pale, and a nasal cannula rested beneath her nose, the tubes extending over and behind her ears, both of which were bandaged over completely. A drip line ran to her right inner forearm which was the only part of her body visible beneath a heavy thermal blanket.

And in a chair along the wall beside the bed was Cem. He looked utterly exhausted, and when he glanced up and registered their presences, if possible, he looked even wearier. Dragging himself slowly to his feet, he met each of their eyes in turn before turning his attention to his niece in the bed. "The Emdees already performed a simple procedure for her ears," he informed them quietly. "Her body temperature is back well into a safe range, but could be a little warmer. And…" he almost reluctantly folded the blanket back away from her chin and neck, "while the bruises may take some time to fade, no serious damage was inflicted to her windpipe or neck."

Jaina came forward slowly, staring at the angry welts and bruises that, by the looks of things, had already been treated extensively with bacta. She exchanged a quick look with Kyp, who was hovering on the other side of the bed, looking almost hesitant to reach out and touch Leyla, she looked so fragile. Jag was standing at the foot of the bed in a state of subdued shock, Gennevi looking wide-eyed in alarm over his shoulder. Biting her lip, taking in Kyp's fear, Jag's shock, Gennevi's alarm, Cem's… guilt… Jaina bit the inside of her cheek as she struggled to keep her own emotions in check.

"I'll leave you four to see to her," Cem murmured quietly, heading for the door.

His sister-in-law stopped him. "Cem, wait." He paused and turned as she approached him slowly, raising her brown eyes to stare at him evenly. Neither said anything for a long moment, and when he finally opened his mouth to say something, anything, she raised a hand and smacked him hard across the face.

Unmoving for several seconds, he finally let out a heavy breath and nodded once, as though to acknowledge that it had been well-deserved, and then turned and exited the room.

The brief and silent altercation finally broke Jag from his stunned silence, and he slipped out the door after his older brother. The two strode wordlessly down the sterile corridors of the med center, finally stopping at a small and empty sitting and waiting area, where Cem sank heavily into a chair before turning his attention to Jag. "I cannot stay long," he murmured softly, "I am neglecting my fleet."

"You've been neglecting them well over a day now," Jag pointed out mildly. "Why did you take off so suddenly, as Niathal was stepping down?" Cem looked at him dully. "You went after her; you knew she was in trouble."

"I… suspected she would be."

"Because she was going to Csilla." Cem nodded slowly. "Cem, what has she involved herself in? If she's angered the Ascendancy…"

His brother barked a mirthless laugh. "Oh, Jagged… your daughter…"

"What?"

"She ended this war," he stated bluntly. "Practically single-handedly."

"The commanders are still trying to figure out what, precisely, this _war_ was," Jag said pointedly. "You seem to be the only one who knows and you disappeared."

"Niathal knows enough."

Jag cocked a brow. "She's dead, Cem."

Cem blinked at him in surprise, eyes going wide- and then he slumped and sighed, not even needing to ask, understanding even as he regretted not seeing it coming. "Then I really do need to get in touch with Reige and Darklighter."

He stood; Jag stopped him with the question he had dreaded, but had also known was coming, eventually. "Cem… how close did we come to losing her?"

Closing his eyes, he spoke to the wall, couldn't even bring himself to face his brother as he answered, "Too close, Jagged. Too close."

X-X-X-X

The next few hours were a whirlwind of activity, as Cem located a private comm center where he could remotely access the conference still ongoing between the leaders of the various forces who had partaken in the brief and all-around confusing battle. By this time- more than three hours after emerging from hyperspace- a small delegation force from the Ascendancy had arrived behind him, meaning he had an entire discussion that was more interrogation than anything else with Aristocras Tsel'oru'nuruodo and Adr'igi'sabosen as well as Commander Spa'rein regarding what had transpired on and over Csilla.

Cem could only answer so many of their questions, with Nabrin dead and Leyla in no condition to talk much during the hyperspace jump to Imperial Space. They further demanded answers about the existence of an Empire that had folded twenty years earlier; again, they were left largely unsatisfied. It wasn't even that the answers they wanted were things they could not know, so much as they were largely things which Cem simply _did_ not know. And he certainly wasn't going to say anything that so much as hinted about Thrawn's existence. The confusion over Syndic Nabrin had been enough.

Nevertheless, a small but significant accomplishment was that the Ascendancy did _not_ seem on the edge of pulling out of talks and retreating to Csilla, as Lorun had initially suggested, quite hotly, upon discovering that the entire population of Csilla had nearly died a swift and silent death. This was in part due to his counter-part's more cool-headed demeanor, and in part due to Cem finally receiving the data package compiled by Zekk, Karrde, and Ghent detailing all the key elements of what they knew about Ryoqim- including details of the systematic destruction of each and every recovered vial of Alpha Red as well as a catalog of the thorough search of his base in the Ithor system, with the assistance of a Jedi strike team from Coruscant. And once that team was confident that it had learned everything of value, Cem's strike force had assisted in tearing the place apart.

The chiss were not, perhaps, happy; but they were contented enough to know that the mastermind behind all that had happened was dead and his base searched and destroyed.

It wasn't yet late by standard time, but Reige took pity on Cem who had not slept in the better part of two days and called an end to the conference comm. The leaders in question would be making their ways to Bastion over the next several hours as their forces were largely disbanded and sent back to their appropriate sectors of space, so diplomatic matters could be put on hold until the next day.

Hesitating only a moment, he left the comm center and wound his way back to the center of the palace towards the private med ward where Leyla was recovering. There were already several people outside her room when he got there, however, and he stopped and observed the gathering for a moment. His brother and parents were deeply immersed in quiet conversation but Ashik, ever on the watch, noted his arrival and nodded to him, traces of curiosity in those glowing eyes.

It was the last figure who drew his attention though, the one he had not seen in nearly eight years now, not since his nephew was just an infant. And the only Force-sensitive of the bunch, his attention was also drawn back over his shoulder, and sharp little hazel eyes widened slightly before he ducked out from under his father's arm and approached the uncle he had never been able to know. He peered earnestly up at the tall man before cocking his head slightly to the side and asking, "Are you Cem?"

Despite himself, despite the watery-eyed way his mother was staring at him, Cem smiled down at him. "I am; and you must be Naviin." The boy nodded. "I haven't seen you since you were about two months old."

"Mom said you disappeared."

His lips quirked. "I did. I'm sorry. But I'm back now."

Naviin considered him with a somewhat suspicious expression on his face and, after a moment's pause, extended his little hand and shook Cem's. Cem fought from grinning, but shot a look over the boy's head to Jag who looked torn between conflicting emotions. And as he, in turn, met the relieved gaze from his mother, the curiously calculating one from his father, Cem realized that he wouldn't be quite able to rest yet, that he owed all of them some measure of explanation before he collapsed and slept.

Carefully embracing his mother, he half-expected her to slap him as well as she hugged him tightly and murmured against him, "_Never_ do that again."

"I'm sorry, mother; it was necessary."

"And my daughter nearly dying?" He stiffened at Jag's words, spared a glance for the seven-year-old boy who was staring wide-eyed up at his father. "Was that necessary, Cem?"

Syal touched a hand lightly to Jag's arm and then took Naviin by the hand. "Come, Navi- let's go see your mother and sister." And she led him into the room where Cem assumed that Jaina and the Durrons were still watching over Leyla.

When the door had closed behind them, Cem met his brother's green eyes wearily. "I need to sleep." He held up a hand to forestall Jag's questions. "Some of your questions cannot even be answered until she wakes; some of them I _won't_ answer until conferring with her first. Rest assured, she has not made herself a target, to the Chiss or to anyone else."

Soontir cocked a brow inquisitively. "The Ascendancy has never been overly fond of outside interference in their affairs."

Biting his lip, Cem shook his head and sighed. "They don't mind it so much when the one interfering offers her life to ensure those of the eight billion chiss who reside on Csilla." The blood drained quickly from his brother's face. "And nearly succeeds in giving it."

X-X-X-X

Everything was white. Csilla never melted. But she wasn't cold anymore.

She blinked.

Lines began to materialize in the ice, an odd, gridded pattern that was wholly out of place.

She blinked again.

The noise of machines and softly-beeping monitors broke through her reverie, and the whiteness resolved into the patterned ceiling above her; she was lying flat on her back, not on the cold world of Csilla, but in a comfortable bed. The drip line in her arm suggested that she was in a med bay.

She blinked a third time and slid her gaze down until her eyes met the pale green ones of her stepfather. Lifting her head slightly, some of her surroundings came into focus, though they were decidedly unfamiliar.

She blinked a fourth time- and burst into tears.

Moments later, she was enveloped in a warm embrace, the weight in the bed shifting as her stepfather sat next to her and drew her carefully into his arms. He murmured soothingly to her and she couldn't even make out the words but it didn't matter; and with her cheek pressed against his chest, his hand absently rubbing her back, she stared balefully across the room where her mother and father were hovering, looking torn between comforting her and giving her some space.

As her sobs subsided into occasional hiccoughs, she tried to get out words, tried to explain, to apologize, to ask any number of questions that were flitting haphazardly around her cluttered mind, but her throat was raw and tight and each attempt ended in a gasping croak.

When she finally calmed enough to breathe properly- somehow now feeling more exhausted than ever- Jag released his hold on her with a light kiss to the top of her head. Jaina and Kyp finally came and perched on the edge of the bed, while Jag stood and turned to the wall to collect himself. And when he turned around again, wiping one last time at his face, the redness of his eyes was still readily apparent, the tracks of moisture running down both cheeks.

Leyla couldn't remember ever seeing him cry before. "I'm sorry," she finally managed in a whisper. Jaina just smiled and gripped her hand tightly. Kyp shook his head bemusedly and sighed, and Jag managed a sort of choking laugh. "What?" she asked defensively.

Jaina bit her lip. "Sweetheart, for all intents and purposes, you just saved the galaxy, and the first thing you do upon waking is apologize."

She swallowed with effort. "Is it all over then?"

"The fighting ended about two days ago," Jaina nodded. "As soon as the storehouse in the Ithor system was secured, Niathal stood her forces down and transferred command to Admiral Darklighter. After the attempt on Csilla and the surprising revelation about the Empire of the Hand, the Chiss have gone a bit defensive, but Cem and Reige are working on setting up a council here on Bastion to handle reconstruction, and formally ending hostilities; right now, everyone is at an indefinite ceasefire."

"And the systems that seceded?"

"Will be offered full membership back in the GA… once it's determined what, precisely, that will entail in the future." Leyla blinked. "This was too easy," Jaina shook her head sadly. "It was far too simple for this Kloru character to manipulate the galaxy into a potentially brutal civil war, yet again. No," she sighed, "one of the long term goals is going to be examining and amending the Galactic Alliance Charter… and seeing if we can't get the Ascendancy back in on a lasting basis."

Leyla shot a look at her stepfather, who seemed drily resigned to the idea. Not particularly interested in spending a lot of time talking about the political fiasco that was to follow, she glanced around and asked, "Where's Navi?"

"With Gennevi," Kyp assured her. "We thought it'd be best if we let you wake up first and get your bearings… in case you freaked him out by not remembering anything… or by bursting into inexplicable tears…" his eyes twinkled teasingly but she read the deeper concern behind them.

Struggling to sit up a little further, she nodded wearily. "I'm fine, really. Just… overwhelmed." She glanced around the room; it was most certainly in the Imperial Palace, it was far too comfortable and cozy to be a standard med center. "Everything just feels very surreal." They nodded sympathetically, and she exhaled heavily. "So when can I get out of here?"

"Not so fast," Jag held up a hand, "the Emdees need to run some tests on your hearing, make sure your ears healed properly."

She started; in light of everything else, she'd practically forgotten about the near-deafening experience she'd suffered on Csilla. The harsh ringing, and then the bleeding… Thrawn gripping her arm and tilting her head, examining the injuries… Thrawn…

"Where's Cem?" she demanded suddenly.

Jaina pursed her lips, and Leyla suspected immediately that her mother was less than pleased with her brother-in-law due to recent events. "He's been in and out of talks all day with Reige, Darklighter, some Aristocra. He asked us to let him know when you woke up, if you were agreeable to seeing him today."

Nodding, Leyla sank back down against the soft pillows, thinking hard. The clone's eighteen-year purpose was finally at an end, at the cost of Nabrin's life and nearly of her own. He had, apparently, stayed off of the charts thus far, but would he stay silent and anonymous? Or would he do what he did forty years ago? Come sweeping in from the Unknown Regions to bring an errant galaxy to heel?

And if that was his plan- how would Leyla stop him?

X-X-X-X

She was grateful that they did not press with questions right away. The curiosity was evident on all of their faces, and Leyla ascertained that Cem had not provided many details to what had transpired on Csilla; thinking about it, she supposed that he didn't even know everything that had happened, though if she was correctly understanding her mother and some chiss representatives had arrived from Csilla, some of the story had likely been filled in by them. Something about her stepfather was different though, and she suspected that Cem had been more open with his brother than the others, had revealed enough that Jag knew how close she had come to dying. There was a sort of latent desperation in his face, even as he attempted to smile reassuringly.

Over the next couple of hours, during which a serving droid delivered a meal which Leyla did not have the appetite to eat, Gennevi brought Naviin by; not long afterwards, she spoke quietly with Kyp and the two excused themselves- apparently Admiral Darklighter had asked them to get in touch, though she did not say for what purpose. Jaina looked mildly curious, but Leyla was drowsy again and falling asleep already as she hugged them on their way out.

She woke again when the Emdees and medics made the rounds at last and conducted some hearing tests, which she passed with flying colors. A quick check of her heart and lungs was their only other concern before discharging her, and when that was done, one of the medics left her a bottle of salve to apply to the bruising across her neck every morning and night, with instructions to check back in at the med center in two days. For her part, Leyla was mildly perturbed at the automatic assumption that she would still _be_ on Bastion in two days, but as her mother and stepfather did not argue the point, she supposed it was already settled.

Jaina left her a simple tan jumpsuit so she could change out of the thin hospital gown; and then she and Jag stood to leave her to change before they showed her to her own temporary accommodations which, much to her surprise and mild confusion, were separate from her parents'. But she supposed Cem had made the arrangements while she was asleep and before the Fels and Durrons even made it to Bastion.

Once she was dressed and semi-presentable- but sorely in need of a sanisteam- Leyla joined her parents in the corridor and let them lead her through a winding route out of the infirmary and into a separate wing of the palace altogether, taking two separate turbolifts to go up several levels. She supposed that she should probably make note of the path they took, but she was generally apathetic towards everything to do with Bastion and the Imperial Palace, and wanted to be back in her small room in the temple on Coruscant, where she could curl up and sleep for a week.

Not that she expected _that_ to happen any time soon.

When they reached the indicated quarters, Jag took an identichip and access card from his pocket and swiped them in front of the sensor, handing them over to Leyla as the door slid open smoothly and silently. She preceded them into the small suite, raising a quizzical brow as she looked around the living space, complete with an attached kitchenette on the right; a door to the left presumably led to the bedroom and refresher.

"Nice place," she commented drily, taking in the spotless, white carpeting, the overstuffed sofa and armchair, the immaculate kitchen area complete with a servi-unit that meant she probably wouldn't have to leave this suite for days if she didn't want to. "Imperials certainly know how to entertain in style." She went through the door to the bedroom and, hardly paying any attention to the furnishings, went straight to the huge viewport that overlooked the city of Ravelin. Dusk was falling, and the glow of building lights and speeders sparkled prettily in the distance. "It's a bit… much. For me."

Jag cleared his throat softly. "I think Cem thought you might like the chance for some easy solitude, in the coming days." She said nothing and continued staring out over the city beyond. "But we're down a few levels, as are Kyp and Gennevi, so…"

She smiled lightly, though neither of them could see it. "Thanks, dad. Who's got Navi now?"

"My parents," Jag assured her. "We're going to go collect him once-" A tap on the outer door stopped him mid-sentence, and he turned back towards the living area. "That's probably Cem."

It wasn't, but Jag was at the door before Leyla could inform him of such. A flash of surprise emanated from her stepfather as Leyla stepped through from the bedroom, and she felt her own confusion to see Admiral Vitor Reige standing in the doorway, a moderately-aged, regal-looking chiss by his side. "Colonel Fel," Reige addressed Jag with a nod of the head, invoking a title not used in nearly two decades in honor of his participation in the battle.

"Admiral," Jag acknowledged slowly, eyes darting instead to the chiss by his side, who paid him no mind as his glowing eyes settled over Leyla instead with disconcerting intensity. "I'm sorry, I'm not sure-"

"It's okay, dad." Leyla came forward and hovered awkwardly in the middle of the room as her father stepped aside to allow the other two to enter. "Can I offer you a seat, or…?"

Reige held up a hand. "Please, Jedi Solo-Fel- do not inconvenience yourself on our accounts. I simply wished to inquire as to your wellbeing, as did the Aristocra here. I apologize if we have caught you at a bad time; we will not impose long."

She nodded slowly and eyed the chiss's status symbols and house colors. "Aristocra… Adr'igi'sabosen?" she asked. His red eyes flickered and she thought she could sense the faintest hint of approval at her quick assessment. "To what do I owe the honor?"

"I desired to put a face with the voice," he answered evenly. "I am told that the infirmity for which you were only recently released from medical care was a direct result of your determined actions on Csilla."

Fighting a flush, she felt suddenly inadequate though she wasn't wholly sure why. "Yes, sir; but I have little grounds for complaint."

"Indeed," he responded smoothly, even as his glowing eyes drifted momentarily down over her throat, where the bruising was just visible above the collar of her jumpsuit. "Your relative's foresight was most fortunate. _Crahsystor_ Na'czin also sends his sincere appreciation for your actions and his relief that matters… worked out as they did."

"The relief is mutual," she assured him wryly. His lips quirked. With an almost dismissive glance over her parents, he took two measured steps forward and extended his hand; Leyla shook it and met his eyes carefully. "And I am unendingly relieved that the people of Csilla are safe."

He nodded once. "And for that, the Ascendancy owes a debt to you and to Syndic Csun'abr'inrokini. I wonder if you know what has become of his body?"

She fought to keep her face impassive, even as she cringed inwardly, anticipating the wave of confusion, anger, and alarm which poured from her father as soon as he was able to process the Aristocra's words. Jag exchanged a look with Jaina, and a slight shift in the Aristocra's demeanor suggested that he realized that the full story had not yet been told; he was unapologetic though, and simply cocked a brow curiously towards her.

Leyla swallowed thickly and murmured quietly, "I believe Captain Fel arranged for it to be delivered to the Inrokini family on Csaus; I do not know if it has made it there yet."

The chiss nodded again and looked her over once last time. "I will not continue to impose, Jedi Solo-Fel; I daresay we shall cross paths again, 'ere my departure from Bastion."

"Yes, sir," was all she could think to say.

When he was gone, followed by a quick word of farewell from Reige, Leyla steeled herself and turned around, resting her eyes on her stepfather who was staring at her in a whole new way from the tender concern he had adopted since her awakening. "Dad…"

"And the last piece of the puzzle falls into place," he murmured softly. "The Inrokini family; Alpha Red; they didn't execute their scientists at all, did they? Syndic Nabrin had to hide them in order to do damage control."

She nodded miserably. "And ten years later, he needed time to quietly move them to the Hand. He never wanted you dead. He just let the others think it so they would agree that his forces head the operation to ambush you and grandpa."

"And you've been working with him all this time."

"I-," she closed her eyes and struggled for words. "I was… a reluctant ally of Nabrin until the end. But forced together for the duration of the journey between Ithor and Csilla, I think we came to something of an understanding that had eluded us all this time…"

Jaina smiled sadly. "But he's dead?"

Tears were threatening to well up in her eyes yet again, and she took a few calming breaths to steady herself, even as the gratitude she felt towards Nabrin for saving her life conflicted with the guilt she felt for his death- and the guilt she felt for nearly throwing her life away foolishly after all he'd done for her in those last minutes. "He saved my life," she finally murmured. "Twice. Had he left me out in the cold on the planet, he might have had time to stop the pathogen before it released into the ship- and once it had, he made sure that _I_ survived, even when he knew he had no chance to live." She drew a shuddering breath. "I'm sorry dad, I was going to tell you, and grandpa, about Nabrin but… I don't even know what's happening right now, and I haven't talked to Cem, and…"

"It's fine, sweetheart, it's fine," Jag drew her down onto the sofa and, despite looking a little shell-shocked himself, put a comforting arm around her shoulders. "When you're ready, we'll talk, okay?"

She nodded, but waved her parents on a few minutes later so they could go and collect Naviin from Soontir and Syal, and get some dinner in one of the facilities located in the palace. They'd asked her to join them, but she needed to get herself cleaned up and even beyond that… she was just exhausted. Not physically so much, she'd spent easily a day in bed between the med bay aboard _The Hand_ and the infirmary in the palace. But mentally, emotionally…

She'd about had enough.

X-X-X-X


	28. Chapter 27

**Chapter 27**

_Bastion_

She was toweling off her hair after a much-needed sanisteam when the expected knock finally sounded on the door of her temporary quarters. Hastily throwing on the tan jumpsuit that currently comprised her entire wardrobe, save the black flightsuit she'd been wearing prior to her medical care, Leyla slipped into the small sitting room of the two-room suite and slapped the door release; it slid open to reveal Cem standing tall and looking, much to her surprise, mildly… apprehensive. Almost nervous.

She stepped aside and waved him in. The door slid shut behind him, but he hovered in the doorway and took in her damp and disheveled state. "I can come later, if I've caught you at a bad time."

"No," Leyla shook her head, "please. This can't really wait."

Cem nodded and settled himself in an armchair, and watched her quietly as she harshly rubbed down her hair before tossing the towel aside and setting about pulling the unruly dark mass into a messy braid that would at least keep it out of her way. As she pulled her hair off of her neck though, his eyes lingered on the slowly fading bruises and she felt a wave of sadness from him that did not even remotely register on his face or physical bearing. "You're looking much better than when I last saw you," he finally offered.

She shrugged uneasily. "The hypothermia was the biggest thing, and the Emdees here say you had that pretty well taken care of before I even got here. The aural repair was a fairly simple procedure." His eyes again swept across the dark marks visible above the collar of her outfit, but he did not comment further on her injuries. "Cem, I need to know what he plans, now that the crisis is past."

There wasn't even the briefest moment of confusion, no questions were asked- Cem knew exactly what she meant. "There are no more plans," he assured her after a momentary pause. "He devoted his lifetime- _this_ lifetime- to the mess created by Alpha Red."

"But now that it's done," she pressed, "what will he do? Where is he now?"

Her uncle sat back and compressed his lips into a thin line. "I don't know." She stared. "He spoke of a last errand with Talon Karrde, said to expect his return to _The Hand_ in about a week." He sighed at her look of frustration. "Leyla, I know you do not trust him fully- perhaps not at all- but he is not after any sort of galactic domination. He knows well enough that more problems would be created than solved, should the truth of his existence come to light. Believe me when I tell you that the scheming is done; he accomplished what he set out for."

She looked uncertainly around the room for a moment, biting her lip. It wasn't enough; Cem had to know it wasn't enough. At the very least, she needed to see Thrawn again, but what would that accomplish, save to leave her in the same fog of confused skepticism in which her encounters with the clone usually left her?

One week until he would supposedly return from his mystery trip. Leyla sighed- she wanted nothing more than to get away from Bastion, away from military commanders, politicians, foreign dignitaries… all of whom were probably annoyed with her at best, more likely irate at the way she'd managed to step on most of their toes in the past few days.

There were all kinds of personal matters for her to deal with, on top of it all. She owed endless apologies to nearly every one of her family members and especially to Jacen, Luke, and Mara. She needed to speak with Ta'yen before he headed back to the Senex Sector, thank him for putting everything on the line for the Alliance, and find out if there was anything she could do to repay him. She'd have to make sure that Fyaru, Taseek, Yilina, and Damala made it off of Coruscant without incident, and find out what happened to Ghent as well.

And then there was Vulcor, who would likely be heading to Bastion with Olyxes as soon as he and Major Ra-ban finished squaring things away at the isolated base sequestered out in Wild Space. Leyla didn't know what would happen with the chiss Jedi, but with the element of secrecy blown, she could imagine little reason for maintaining the full operating base that far out in the middle of nowhere like that.

But Vulcor… they'd parted ways on a bad note and she didn't know where they would go now, but after everything, she supposed that they surely owed each other at least one more conversation. Preferably in a calm, relaxing environment, away from matters of galactic crisis and chaos. When was she supposed to fit _that_ in with everything else and before Vulcor headed back to Ossus as he would surely do, once he'd relinquished his unwanted duties with Cem and Thrawn?

"Leyla?"

"I can't leave," she whispered. "Not yet."

Cem smiled sadly. "I don't think you could if you wanted to," he confessed. "I think the Chiss were anticipating a longer interview, after you've had some time to get your bearings again. Likewise, Reige and Darklighter might have some inevitable questions, not to mention… well, Master Skywalker, when he arrives."

"He's coming here?"

"If I properly understood Admiral Darklighter, both Masters Skywalker were to escort Chief of State Belotab to the palace." She blinked a few times in confusion. "But of course," he nodded, "you've remained blissfully unaware of the immediate chaos once Niathal stood down and transferred command to Darklighter. The Senate is in an uproar and they probably only know a fraction of the true story, but they know enough. Polla Essada regained consciousness long enough to be horrified that Niathal went to war on behalf of the assassination attempt- under false pretenses, no less- and then again several hours later long enough to sign a formal request for the Senate to approve Belotab resuming his resigned post. The measure was approved with impressive speed and efficiency. In fact, I think Belotab himself was most reluctant for the change."

"And the leaders? The bothans and sullustans, and Niathal?"

He weighed his words a moment before sighing and regarding her carefully. "It was decided that any parties involved should be pardoned, provided they come forward freely and share any useful information they have which, in most cases, is not much. Darklighter has already spoken extensively with Bwua'tu and Kre'fey, and Niuk Niuv of Sullust has opened channels through your grandmother to discuss re-entry into the Alliance."

It figured; Leia Organa Solo never could stay away from politics for long. "What about Niathal?"

His eyes flickered. "Pending further investigation Cha Niathal will be pardoned for her crimes… posthumously."

"Posthumously?"

He met her wide-eyed look evenly before pursing his lips and looking down. "After transferring command of all GA forces over to Admiral Darklighter, she made a last transmission to her family on Dac and then sequestered herself in her private quarters aboard the _Admiral Ackbar_. Her aide found her several hours later when no one could reach her to begin dialoguing with Darklighter and Reige. She'd…" he hesitated. "She ran a line of carbon monoxide into her personal aquarium tank. It… seemed to be something she'd made especial preparations for... in advance."

Leyla closed her eyes as she understood, as much as she didn't wish to. The dishonor Niathal must have surely faced would have been too much, but to do anything against Ryoqim's demands would have spelled certain death for her entire homeworld. But she'd known it was an inevitability…

She shuddered and wrapped her arms around herself to ward off the chill. Cem stood and hovered awkwardly a moment before crossing to the chair where she sat, and he briefly rested a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Try to relax," he murmured. "You've born a heavy burden these past several days, you deserve some peace of mind… if only fleetingly." Smiling tightly, she raised her eyes to meet his, and something deep in his hazel eyes flickered painfully. "I… would never have forgiven myself, had the worst happened on Csilla."

She reached up and gripped his hand tightly. "Thank you," she spoke softly. "For coming after me."

With a last tight squeeze of her hand, Cem headed for the door. Just before his hand connected with the release panel, she spoke quietly, almost reluctantly. "Was it worth it, Cem?" He stilled. "The secrecy, the _duty_… everything you've sacrificed- your family, your name… for a heritage, a role, that was never even a choice."

He didn't turn, but spoke to the door after a moment of consideration. "Someone must do it. Though… I cannot deny that I have found myself at times… jealous… of what Jagged has, what Wynssa has. Things that were never pragmatic for me, living my entire life as a lie."

"Things are different now; things could change for you. For the first time in your life… you exist."

"Perhaps; for now though, I am quite content to have the chance to know a family I could never before. To have the opportunity to know Ashlin and Naviin... your mother… you."

"I'm glad for that as well," she assured him softly.

X-X-X-X

Jaina and Jag did not see Kyp and Gennevi again until lunch the following day. With Naviin in tow, they sought out the couple as they sat in the dining facility, talking quietly with their heads close together, and settled down in empty seats around the table. Kyp and Gennevi stopped talking, with almost suspicious suddenness.

Cocking a brow, Jaina asked, "So what did Darklighter want yesterday?"

A discreet look was exchanged between them, before Kyp returned evenly, "We'll tell you later." And before she could muster an appropriate amount of speculative surprise on the matter, he switched the topic abruptly. "Have you seen Leyla today?"

Now it was Jaina and Jag's turn to exchange a look, even as Naviin nodded his head enthusiastically. "We had breakfast with her," the boy informed Kyp succinctly; the Jedi Master smiled and nodded, but his gaze fell on Jaina questioningly. Her expression was enough to inform him that Naviin's relief at spending time with his sister once more was making him somewhat short-sighted to Leyla's unusually melancholy state since she'd woken.

Leyla had been pleasant enough when she'd joined the Fels in their suite for breakfast, but she was quiet, distant. Jaina couldn't decide whether it seemed more likely that she needed some more time to process all that she'd been through- details of which were still vague in places, but had been filled in significantly by Cem the night before- or whether she needed someone to prod her into opening up and venting about it. The last thing she wanted to do was to pressure her into talking, especially if it wasn't Jaina she wanted to talk to.

"Well we saw her late last night before turning in, and she said she'd meet us for lunch but-"

"But," a voice cut in, "she got lost. Sorry, dad; big palace."

She kissed Kyp's cheek and tousled Naviin's hair before sitting down in the last seat at the table and perusing the servi-unit options. Jaina studied her daughter and decided that she looked well enough- some color had returned to her cheeks, her eyes were a bit brighter than they had been the day before, even at breakfast. But even Jag and Gennevi, without an inkling of Force-sensitivity between them, could not fail to notice that Leyla was keeping herself so subdued within the Force that neither of her parents, nor her brother, had even realized she was coming.

It took only a few minutes for a server-droid to come whisking out with their meals once they'd selected from the monitor on the table, and the six of them settled into a companionable silence for several minutes while they ate.

The lounge where they ate was moderately busy, for midday. It seemed to cater to the residential sections of the palace but Jaina had to assume that, like the old palace on Coruscant where she'd been born and spent several years of her childhood, there were probably dozens of assorted dining facilities across the huge complex- small and accessible cafeterias for the menial office workers, or people who simply needed food quickly; ornate and elaborate restaurants for entertaining visiting dignitaries and the like.

This particular place seemed somewhere in the middle; simple and unassuming, it was cozy but lacked formal constraints. And the other people who passed through- the very large majority of beings in the palace being human, as far as Jaina had seen- paid their out-of-place group little mind. Soon enough, she supposed there would be plenty of visitors roaming the halls of the palace.

"So," Leyla took a sip of her tea- paused, made a face, sighed, and set it back down, whatever she'd been about to say forgotten. Gennevi looked at her curiously, and she smiled faintly. "Too sweet. Sorry, I was going to ask- what's happening now? I mean… Cem told me that Uncle Luke and Aunt Mara are coming out with Chief Belotab and all that, but… none of you have actually told me what you're sticking around here for."

Gennevi smiled ruefully. "Besides you?" Leyla flushed. "Well, we're all in a bit of trouble with Master Skywalker for corrupting young Jedi pilots into acting thoroughly like Rogues." By her tone, it was evident that the 'trouble' was minimal. "Assorted elements of both the Jedi and non-Jedi groups have teamed up with the various Fleets as they organize, repair, and ship out- to make sure everyone is on the same page, that sort of thing." She glanced around the table. "The four of_us_ are going to have to file a formal report eventually and explain everything in a way that doesn't implicate Gavin of any wrongdoing," she grinned.

"Isn't he the new acting Supreme Commander?" Leyla frowned. "Can he convict himself of subversion?"

Kyp laughed. "I think just about everyone involved here has performed some sort of underhanded sneakiness in recent days; I wouldn't worry too much about it. Though," he considered his daughter, "Cem hinted that the Chiss are going to want to have a longer chat with you some time soon."

She shrugged wearily. "Probably Belotab and Darklighter too, eventually."

"Well, Cem said that-"

"I've _got_ it," Gennevi cut him off, a look of success on her face. "Finally- Bloodfin Squadron."

When she didn't elaborate, Jaina shook her head. "Sorry- what?"

"Cem. I've met him before."

"_What_?"

She turned to Kyp. "Remember when you and Leyla were training on the _Trucemaker_ and I told you that I was with the Second Fleet under Wedge back when… ah… he was out for your blood?" His brow quirked upwards and he nodded. "Well, after the crisis on Bastion was over, we had a squadron from Imperial space connect with us unexpectedly- purportedly as supplemental firepower to make up for the ships of the Fourth that had been damaged in an earlier engagement, before Pellaeon returned to rout the rebellious Moffs here."

Jaina thought back hard, trying to figure out that timing, finding it strange in some ways how close all of their paths had come to crossing with Gennevi so long ago. But after the attack over the Imperial capital had ceased- an attack which had pinned her, Jag, and her parents down on the planet- they had left in the _Falcon_ themselves to meet with Wedge's Fleet. Which meant that the squadron of which Gennevi spoke must have left around the same time, because they hadn't lingered long before heading towards the Atrivis Sector to collect Kyp and the assorted Jedi who had taken down the Red Hand leadership.

It was strange how things came together. That stay on Bastion was the only other time Jaina had ever stayed in the Imperial Palace on Ravelin; shortly thereafter, she, Jag, and Kyp had spent a reasonable duration of time with the same fleet where Gennevi was serving; and somewhere in that whole experience, Gennevi had actually met Cem?

"Anyway," the older woman continued, "we couldn't quite figure out what they were doing with us- they were supposed to be about the most elite Imperial squadron out there. But I dealt with the Bloodfin commander a couple of times over the course of the week or so they spent with the Second, at squadron command meetings and the like." She hesitated. "And I would swear that it was Cem."

"It was," Jag assured her, even as he shook his head. "You would have met him as Davik Antell. And I'll bet anything that he was there because my father suggested that Admiral Nhylatich arrange it when he heard that Wedge had recovered Leyla."

Jaina looked at her silent daughter and noticed that she was staring off into space a bit, completely checked out of the conversation, even when Jag mentioned her specifically. In the thirteen ensuing years, Leyla had never been overly fond of discussing Red Hand but she'd never particularly shied away from it either. It was just… over and done with, a frightening but brief chapter in her young life.

"Leyla?"

"Hm?" she turned and jolted out of her distant musings.

Changing the topic of conversation completely, Jaina smirked. "There's a roguishly handsome young man from the Senex Sector who was asking about you earlier. Any interesting story behind that?"

Leyla's look wasn't quite exasperated, but it didn't give anything away either. "Nothing unusual, for this family- Ta'yen and I made a business arrangement in which I would try to help him figure out who tried to kill him and he would provide some better intel on slave trafficking so that the GA might better coordinate with the sector's efforts." She went a bit pink. "Not that I've been able to follow up on that…"

"Did you figure out who tried to kill him?"

"No, he figured it out all on his own." And she fell silent again for a long minute as Jaina fought back the frustration at how closed-off her daughter had become. "Anyway, mom, there's a roguishly handsome man looking for _you_ too."

"Oh?"

Leyla nodded over Jaina's shoulder and everyone at the table turned to see Zekk, arms crossed over his chest, leaning against the wall near the door, watching their little gathering. Jaina shook her head back and forth slowly as the tall Jedi approached, and informed him sweetly, "I'm going to kill you."

"Can it wait until after I eat?" he pulled up a chair. "I'm starving."

"Where's Tahlia?"

Zekk scowled. "Recovering from the interrogation we just underwent upon our arrival."

"Anyone else come with you?" Leyla asked.

He nodded slowly and met her eyes carefully. "Damala and Taseek." Something in his tone told her quite clearly _not_ to ask where Yilina and Fyaru were. "They came out to the Ottega System with the Jedi team."

Jaina suppressed another bout of frustration. Her daughter having secrets was one thing; her daughter having secrets with Jag's brother and Jaina's oldest friend was altogether more difficult to handle. But, she supposed- when you save the galaxy with the resources of a massive Empire nobody even knows exists anymore, there must be some allowances.

X-X-X-X

"You know," Leyla said drily to the man sitting in the chair across from her in her suite's living area, "when I left Senex a month ago, you were going into exile and talking about fighting a guerilla war against your father. In light of that situation, I wasn't expecting you to turn up with the whole sector-wide defense force."

He smiled slyly and sipped lightly from his foaming brew of some exotic Imperial-world spirit. "I had a productive month." He tilted his head to the side, regarding her curiously. "As did you." He grinned. "When you left Senex a month ago, you were returning home at the bidding of your Jedi Council and… well, your mother." Her lips quirked. "I take it you never quite made it there."

"No," she shook her head. "We barely made it off of Eriadu before we were sucked into this fiasco."

He nodded slowly. "_We_," he repeated. "Of course. What has become of Jedi Vulcor?"

"Well…" Looking away a moment, she fought to keep the scowl off of her face. Truth be told, she didn't quite know. She'd assumed that he was bringing Olyxes to Bastion but Zekk hadn't volunteered the information about his son during lunch, and Leyla wasn't going to reveal his existence if his parents had some further reason of keeping him concealed. "We sort of went separate ways in the course of what needed to be done in the last several days. I imagine he'll be making his way here eventually. Or maybe he'll just return straight back to Ossus."

"Hm," Ta'yen shrugged, "well, will you pass along my greetings to him when you see him?"

"Are you not staying?"

His answering smile was sincere. "Don't misunderstand me, Leyla- it was no question at all to bring my forces to bear to help stop this war; not when the galaxy as we know it was on the verge of chaos and destruction. But this now- the negotiations and debates… these are now matters of the Galactic Alliance. Not Senex. In truth, I would have been gone already but I was waiting to see you first."

Strangely… that actually made her blush a bit. "I'm glad you did stay," she said quietly. "I want to thank you- and ask if there's any way that I can ever repay the great debt I now owe you."

Ta'yen waved her off. "Don't be absurd. All I could ask is that you pass it along to the right people- among the Jedi or in the government- that Senex will hopefully, one day soon, start to branch out of its self-imposed isolationism, form more concrete ties with the rest of the galaxy. Possibly even join the Alliance one day."

"I'll do that," she promised.

X-X-X-X

It was the next morning- about three days since the cease-fire, two days since _The Hand_ made orbit over Bastion- when the overall atmosphere of everything changed. The Skywalkers arrived with Ferrin Belotab and Wynn Dorvan and, with the newly-reinstated head of the GA and the head of the Jedi order now present, the questions that were most important could now be asked:

Would the Ascendancy rejoin the Alliance? If so, under what conditions?

How would recent events affect the overall structure and organization of the Alliance?

What terms- if any- would the recently seceded systems face for reentry? And the Remnant?

Would Belotab carry on his term as before, or would a special election be arranged for the near future?

And then, the big questions that many were reluctant to voice but that could not be avoided- what was to become of the Empire of the Hand? How had it accomplished all it had done in recent weeks, months, and years?

The problem with the latter question was that Cem refused to say anything that would remotely implicate Karrde or Ghent, even if their actions had all been unfortunate necessities in order to achieve galactic salvation. And it was the former question which had the Chiss most on edge, kept them hovering with one foot out the door, unwilling to commit to anything as much as Cem assured Aristocras Adr'igi'sabosen and Tsel'oru'nuruodo that the Hand posed no threat to the Ascendancy; indeed, they hadn't even been aware of its existence, these long years.

But as before, much to Leyla's dismay, the Ascendancy found itself at odds with a Fel; this time, a Fel who had never even lived among them. And that secrecy was part of the problem, as far as she could tell, it made them edgy and defensive. They were reluctant to accept that the whole matter had not been pre-arranged, that Cem hadn't been reforging the Hand for decades, even as he served in the Remnant. And Cem argued as best he could against them, even as he protected the greatest secret that could bring the whole thing crashing down on them all.

Thrawn.

It was late that afternoon before she was finally summoned. Reluctant to go, she was at least grateful that they had put off the interrogation until all of the assorted leadership had gathered to be present for it.

Zekk had assured her over lunch that she need not worry about protecting him and Tahlia, or Cem. Nevertheless, she felt a distinct anxiety as she stiffly walked into the oversized conference room that was being used as the center of discussion and negotiation. Her great-uncle, whom she'd not even been able to see since his arrival that morning, smiled faintly at her; Ferrin Belotab was regarding her curiously, as though trying to reconcile her appearance to the last time they had met- some eleven years ago at a diplomatic function with her stepfather, if Leyla correctly recalled.

Cem and Reige were similar in their stiffly Imperial posture, expressions stoic without being grim, necessarily. Reige had five or ten years on her uncle, but the two men were of similar height and build, and mirrored one another from opposite sides of a long, rectangular table.

Fifth and most out-of-place was Aristocra Adr'igi'sabosen, the lone chiss among these human men. His gaze held no less intensity than it had in her suite two nights prior.

"Have a seat, Jedi Solo-Fel," Reige directed her quietly, and she slowly lowered herself into the chair beside Luke and opposite Belotab. "If I may, before we begin- how progresses your recovery?"

She fought the unconscious urge to reach up and rub at the marks she knew were still visible at the base of her throat. "Just fine, thank you, sir. My… injuries were not all that severe." It was true; she certainly could have died by Ryoqim's hands, by the cold of Csilla, or by Alpha Red, but once those three factors had been dealt with, only the matter of restoring her body temperature to a normal level had been a pressing concern for her long-term wellbeing.

"Yes, well," he leaned back in his seat and observed her over steepled fingers. "I would like to ask you about Torolis."

She blinked. "Torolis, sir?" He nodded. "I… barely even knew what happened on Torolis when it occurred, I was working on an unrelated project in the Senex Sector."

"Yes, we know you were not yet involved in Captain Fel's efforts. My question is more to do with how you felt… how you feel now… about the way in which the Torolis matter was… dealt with. When you learned the full story."

Leyla frowned heavily and glanced sidelong at Luke before looking quickly down the table at Cem. He was sitting back in his chair, unmoving, watching and waiting- and she realized something. This wasn't a test of _her_ at all- it was a test of Cem, and of Zekk and Tahlia.

And it perhaps explained just why Olyxes was still being kept secret. Should his parents be viewed as traitors or war criminals…

She swallowed- and she decided that an honest answer was the best answer. "I was horrified," she returned bluntly. "Jedi have never been as willing as those in military power to quantify 'acceptable losses' and four million bothans seemed- and still seems- a steep price to pay. Especially when the means of stopping the tragedy is at hand, and the person wielding that power does not use it." She sighed. "But… I do not know, now, that any alternative means could have ended in anything but disaster, chaos, and tragedy. Due to the nature of this threat, it was inconceivable to risk alerting Ryoqim to the fact that someone was on to him until we had more information."

The Aristocra leaned forward and caught her eyes sharply. "And that someone was Syndic Csun'abr'inrokini?"

"As I understand it," Leyla held his gaze firmly, "he was deeply involved in the initial project against the Yuuzhan Vong."

"He was also deeply involved in treason against the Ascendancy when he kidnapped and faked the deaths of your father and grandfather, and an Aristocra of a Ruling Family."

Everyone else at the table was watching them closely; Leyla mustered as much conviction in her voice as she was able. "I cannot speak for his intentions, Aristocra. I did not come to know the syndic well in the month I spent in the service of the Hand. It is clear to me, however, that his actions saved their lives; just as his actions on Csilla saved mine. I will not insult his memory by questioning his motives now."

Adr'igi'sabosen straightened and blinked once. "Understood, Jedi Solo-Fel."

Leyla sighed and looked around the table once more. "If you're trying to determine whether or not to hold Cem, or Zekk, or Tahlia responsible for the deaths of the bothans on Torolis, stop. Had Torolis been a failure, Ryoqim would have tried Bothawui- which would have also failed. And then he would have assumed something was wrong with the bothan strain and moved on- maybe to Coruscant, where a rodian would be blackmailed into killing billions of humans, or calibops, or whatever; and if that failed, Rodia would have paid the price.

"But Cem and Zekk knew that Rodia was blackmailed too; they could have stopped it. But what happens when the twi'lek on Rodia, who must do Ryoqim's bidding or see Ryloth devastated, tries and fails to effect the deaths of all those rodians? Ryloth never seceded; we didn't know about Ryloth, just like we didn't know about Bpfassh, or Clak'dor Seven, or three other planets. And then what? Four million lives were saved on Torolis- at the cost of the billion-odd twi'leks on Ryloth?

"He could have done all of this in a matter of _minutes_," she narrowed her eyes around at them all. "The skill in his treachery was not in killing sentient beings, it was using their fear of death, the deaths of their entire species, against them. Forcing systems without the means to secede, like Sullust; forcing Admiral Niathal into an impossible place with trillions of lives in the balance.

"Four years ago," she said softly, the faintest tremor in her voice, "my father- Master Durron- was forced into an impossible position when a deranged ex-Moff put a blaster to my head and ordered him to fire Centerpoint Station at an unknown target. An incredibly fortunate bout of luck meant that the Jedi already knew that Centerpoint was being brought back online, and they had already begun the process of rigging it to self-destruct whenever it was next fired.

"What if they hadn't?" The eyes of the four men and the Aristocra were wide and riveted on her. "What if his choices were truly to see his daughter die, or to fire on an unknown target and kill millions, perhaps billions of sentients?" She shook her head. "There is no choice; not really. In such a situation, _I _would have been Torolis- but my death would have ensured life for countless others. I am loathe to use the phrase 'acceptable losses,' but there are times when sacrifice is necessary- even when it tears you apart to do it. _My_ death would have been a sad story on the HoloNet for a few days; Torolis will be the tragedy of a generation. But it's what those sacrifices did prevent, or would have prevented, that truly counts.

"Was there anything else?"

It was quiet for a long time. Then, at last, Reige, who seemed to be the unofficial head of the gathering, shook his head slowly. "No."

A moment passed and her brows rose in surprise. "No?"

"No. You may go." He glanced around the room. "I think we're done for the day."

"But then…" she frowned and looked from Reige to Belotab, to the Aristocra, and finally to Cem and Luke. "What about everything _I_ did?"

Reige frowned deeply. "How do you mean?"

"I thought I was here to answer questions."

"And you have; more than you realize, perhaps."

"But we didn't talk about any of _my_ actions."

Reige was starting to look faintly bemused. "Which actions do you feel merit discussion today, Jedi Solo-Fel?"

Fighting the rising frustration, she pursed her lips and exhaled heavily and looked at Luke first. "I disobeyed the Masters' Council and disappeared." She looked at Belotab. "I broke into the Senate Building and sent part of my team to infiltrate the Senate Chamber which ended up being blamed," her eyes shifted to the Aristocra, "on the Ascendancy and used as justification," she turned last to Reige, "to start a potentially catastrophic civil war. I've managed to step on _all_ of your toes in the past several days, not to mention the fact that I helped Cem subvert an admiral of the Galactic Alliance into turning on the Supreme Commander."

"Leyla," Luke turned to her slowly, "do you have the faintest clue what we've discussed today with Zekk and Tahlia… Damala and Taseek… and Captain Fel?" She shook her head, eyes narrowed and suspicious. "For much of the time- you."

"Me," she repeated dully.

Reige cleared his throat. "You," he repeated. "The fact that your actions on Coruscant saved Polla Essada's life; the fact that you urged Captain Fel to do all he could to buy time while you put together the pieces to draw out Ryoqim and force him to reveal the location of his secret base. The fact that you enlisted help from the unlikeliest of allies, in Lord Viholn, to put as swift an end as possible to an unnecessary and potentially brutal war."

"And," Adr'igi'sabosen added quietly, "the fact that you rushed headlong to Csilla and, at great personal peril, saved eight billion chiss lives. The fact that you put those lives ahead of your own when you found yourself trapped inside a contaminated vessel, and only your uncle's timely arrival prevented that tragedy from occurring."

"So no," Reige concluded, "we do not require any explanations, nor justifications, for anything you have done. Though we would ask that you remain about the palace as we turn our attention towards future matters, lest we find ourselves with any questions then."

Nodding faintly and feeling more than a little blind-sided, Leyla allowed Luke to steer her from the room a couple minutes later when the session adjourned for the day.

X-X-X-X


	29. Chapter 28

**Chapter 28**

_Bastion_

Leyla did her best to relax more over the next couple of days. She wasn't summoned for any further discussions with the Leadership Council, she managed a semi-regular routine which kept all of her parents happy but still left her plenty of time to sit alone and think and meditate, and she even agreed to accompany Syal and Wynssa on a shopping trip in the city of Ravelin while Jaina and Jag babysat for Ashlin.

Based on the look on her mother's face as she sat down to play with the giggling one-year-old, Leyla half-expected to return and find out that her parents had decided it was time for child number three.

The trip out was actually productive; she'd been going through the same few sets of clothing and, since it looked like she was stuck on Bastion for at least the next several days, it seemed prudent to acquire something to wear besides the same black flightsuit, tan jumpsuit, and single set of Jedi-like tunic and robe which Mara had brought for her. And the heavy black boots she'd worn with her flightsuit- the first order of business was finding a more comfortable shoe for day-to-day wear around the palace. She was tired of feeling like she was always heading into battle.

Syal Antilles Fel, ever the regal Holostar, tried to get her into some formal gowns. Leyla smiled politely, obliged once, and then promptly put her foot down for subsequent attempts, after the absurd experience of lacing the thing up the back for five minutes- not to mention that it was ridiculously expensive anyway. Maybe she took after her mother in that regard more than she thought.

The three of them had an early dinner at a chic little restaurant in the city before returning to the palace where, based on the look of exhaustion on her father's face, her parents had _not_ decided that any more children were a necessary component of the Fel family.

Leyla was preparing to head back up to her own quarters when Jaina held up a finger to stop her. "Actually, Mara's asked if all of the Jedi currently in the palace could get together for a little powwow, figure out what's happening while Luke is stuck here with the Council, that sort of thing."

And so she found herself saying a quick goodbye to Jag and Naviin and trailing dutifully after her mother, who seemed to have a better grasp of the layout of the palace than she did and led them through several corridors, down five levels in a turbolift, and across an enclosed walkway over an elaborate garden courtyard before finally reaching the correct room. It wasn't locked, and a simple wave of her hand in front of the sensor admitted them to a large and open, functional space with a round table big enough to seat about twenty people.

They wouldn't have _that_ many, Leyla supposed, but a fair few; more than her initial estimates guessed, actually, considering the first person she saw in the room was Taseek. Apparently Mara- or Zekk, perhaps- had extended the invitation to the Hand Knights as well.

The young chiss smiled slyly at her. "Ever in the thick of things," he commented to her.

She offered him a sardonic shrug. "Believe me, I'm just waiting for the word and I'll be on my way back to my own bed on Coruscant." The two hovered back by the door while Jaina went to go take count of who was already present. "You and Damala doing alright?"

"We are thriving in our role as the two beings who manage to fit in exactly nowhere." It was said entirely without bitterness or malice, but Leyla shook her head, confused. "The Ascendancy does not know what to make of us," he elaborated. "It has never had the slightest interest in identifying and training Jedi."

Her answer was cut short as she caught a brief wave of surprise from her mother, followed by a half-unsure, half-bemused question. "Zekk, do you realize you have a child sitting on your lap?" Leyla whirled around in surprise, not having even noticed the tall, dark-haired Jedi when she walked in. "Did you kidnap some poor kid off the streets of Ravelin?"

Olyxes giggled and turned to look at Jaina; and Leyla could tell from her expression, let alone the Force, that the shocking green of the boy's eyes was not lost on her. His attention soon enough turned to Leyla though, and those eyes widened in excitement. "Leela!" he scolded, "you said you were coming back."

Mustering as much good-humor into her voice as possible, she smiled and said, "I didn't have to, Olly, you came here." But her eyes drifted up to Zekk's and she frowned at the resigned sort of frustration in them. "Where's…?"

"Being debriefed by Cem and Master Skywalker and the others."

"Is he coming down here afterwards?"

Zekk bit his lip. "No."

"Well when did he get here?"

She couldn't sense Vulcor. Not at all. If she hadn't seen Olyxes there with Zekk, she never could have even guessed that he was in the palace at all, that he was even in Imperial space. And she knew that he was hiding- from her. "Leyla…"

She turned on her heel and headed for the door. Zekk's rising frustration was obvious as she left him behind, and she heard him speaking brightly to Olyxes. "Olly, this is Jaina; she's my oldest friend. You should ask her about the time we went to the holographic zoo together, it's a great story…" And he passed the toddler over to a confused Jaina and followed Leyla out the door, pulling her to a stop in the hallway.

"Leyla, he's not staying."

Her expression betrayed nothing. "What does that mean?"

"It means he's leaving first thing in the morning," he returned sharply. "He never wanted any part in this and he's done now, it's over and he's had enough."

"Were you going to tell me this?" He stared at her expectantly. "Of course not," she sighed, "He told you not to."

Zekk spoke reluctantly. "You left, Leyla. _You._ You left in anger and refused to let him accompany you, after he only stayed in the first place for _you_. Surely you realize that?"

"He was only with me in the first place because my mother asked him to be."

"If you honestly believe that, then why does _this_ matter?"

"Because-!" she closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose, trying to figure out the answer to that question herself. "Because we left things unfinished," she answered quietly. "Where is he, Zekk?"

X-X-X-X

_Exocron_

Talon Karrde walked into the small mansion that had become his unlikely center of operations in the past eight years. He had not been back to Car'das's old home in over a year now, but the place was well-kept by, perhaps, the two most mismatched inhabitants he could imagine. But Entoo Nee and Shada seemed to have got on well in all that time, with the former handling the more menial duties about that place and the latter taking charge of the complex work that was part of being Ghent's proxy on the remote world.

It didn't mean that Shada wasn't beyond pleased to see him again.

"It's about time," she huffed as he entered the house. "I was expecting you by yesterday."

Karrde glanced sidelong at the hooded figure who walked by his side. "There was a matter that needed attending to in the Ascendancy first."

Indeed, the delivery of Csun'abr'inrokini's body had taken longer than Karrde anticipated, but as he had stayed in orbit around the planet Csaus, he had no knowledge of what had passed between Thrawn and the syndic's nephew. They had spoken little on the long journey to Exocron, but Karrde suspected that the chiss's brooding silence had something to do with the fact that Nabrin had been one of his last ties to an old life. Car'das had been another.

"Ghent is already here, and the two chiss."

"Has he started?"

"No," Shada glanced between Karrde and Thrawn once, uncharacteristically uncertain for the confident one-time mercenary. "He wanted to wait and make sure that you were both sure…"

Thrawn spoke softly for the first time since entering. "A deal is a deal, Mistress D'ukal; our work is ended. Master Ghent may begin."

Shada nodded, glanced again at Karrde, and then ducked into a different room as the other two entered the vast library, a collection of datacards compiled over decades of diligent work- the life's work for a man who had been even more impassioned by simple information than Karrde himself. "So," Karrde watched as the clone crossed slowly towards a random shelf and began perusing the impressive collection, "how did you know that Car'das had all of this? Had the means to slip into back doors in secure networks, doors that should never have still existed?"

Speaking to the wall, Thrawn tilted his head slightly as he read the information printed on the spine of the cases. "Very simply, Master Karrde, I was there when he accepted the challenge to build the information network that became his private hobby, a near obsession."

"You were there," Karrde repeated.

"Hm," Thrawn acknowledged, pulling a disk off the shelf and, opening the case, he slipped the card into his datapad and read curiously for a few seconds. "Some seventy years ago now."

"You were not yet with the Empire seventy years ago; Car'das would have been a very young man." The question was behind the words, even though Karrde's tone was mild.

Thrawn read another few seconds, slid the datacard smoothly from the datapad, replaced it, and selected another. "Car'das and two of his early associates spent a number of months as prisoners of the Expansionary Defense Fleet after being rescued from disgruntled… customers… by my picket force."

"I was once your prisoner, I hope you won't be offended if I tell you that the experience was _not_ the foundation of a lasting friendship."

A hint of a smile actually graced the clone's lips as he glanced once at Karrde. "It was a remarkably unstructured captivity. Educational, even."

"Hey," both turned as Ghent stuck his head into the library. "The virus is loaded. The system is so expansive, it will take a couple of days to finish, but it'll all be a pretty big mess within a couple of hours."

And he was gone again. Thrawn watched him go, a bemused twitch to his lips. "An unusual individual, your friend." He looked around once more, taking in the vast, priceless collection of information. "I will leave you to it, come morning."

"You're leaving so soon?"

He was quiet for a long moment. "I have one more matter to attend to- one more old friend, as it were, to visit."

X-X-X-X

_Bastion_

"Master Skywalker," Vulcor fell into step beside the older man as the council adjourned for the day after his short and mildly terse interview in which no one harbored any delusions that Jedi Vulcor had an interest in continuing to be involved in the Empire of the Hand. "I wonder if I might have a word?"

"Certainly," Luke slowed, letting the others outpace him. "I'm just on my way to Mara's meeting, if you'd like to-"

"I'm not," Vulcor interrupted him, and then flushed. "My apologies. But I'm taking a step back from all of this."

Luke stopped walking and frowned lightly. "What can I do for you then, Vulcor?"

Vulcor fought to find the right words for a minute, and finally sighed, closing his dark grey eyes in mild frustration. "I know I've been away from the academy for… what, six weeks now? So this might seem a little redundant, but I would like to formally request a leave of absence."

"Oh," Luke blinked up at him in surprise. In the years since Vulcor had agreed to attend the Ossus academy, when he was just nineteen and recovering from a brutal assault at the hands of the man who had been his mentor, he'd never shown an interest in going his own way, as Tahlia had done, was content to remain on Ossus to help instruct and oversee the youngest students with whom he seemed to have a natural talent to work. "Of course, that shouldn't be a problem. But," he hesitated as he studied the young man's impassive face, "can I ask what you plan to do?"

He shrugged and smiled in bewilderment. "Honestly, I have no idea." His comlink beeped and he absently silenced it, shaking his head. "I just need some time to figure out… where _I'm_ headed. If that makes sense."

"Certainly," Luke told him sympathetically. "Well, we'll be sorry to see you go; but don't be afraid to drop in every once in a while- on Ossus or Coruscant- even if only to say hi and have a place to stay for a night or two." Vulcor nodded and smiled his thanks. "Are you leaving now then?"

"No, I have a room for the night, but I'll be leaving early."

The Jedi Master clasped his shoulder briefly. "Safe travels then, Vulcor; may the Force be with you."

"Thank you, Master," Vulcor murmured. "And likewise."

They parted ways, and Vulcor let out a heavy breath as he meandered his way along to the small apartment he'd been granted for the night, deep in thought. Where _would_ he go? He wasn't sure, but somewhere quiet and peaceful was top of the list. Somewhere where he could re-center his emotions, get a neutral look onwards, decide from there.

Somewhere away from clones of long-dead chiss grand admirals.

Somewhere away from Fels.

It was with that last wholly depressing thought that he walked into the small living space of his suite, at the precise moment that his comlink beeped again. Absently unclipping it from his utility belt, he raised it to his lips and answered, "Vulcor," even as he looked around the room and realized that something felt out of place.

"_It's Zekk_. _Leyla's on the warpath._"

He frowned. "Come again?"

"_She went tearing off when she realized you were here and hadn't gotten in touch_."

"Well how did she know I was here at all?"

The exasperation came through quite clearly over the small speaker. "_She isn't stupid, Vulcor, who else would have brought Olly here?" _

As he spoke though, Vulcor walked slowly around to the open door of the bedroom. "Don't worry about it," he responded quietly to Zekk. "I think she found me."

When he stepped through into the room, she was there; standing against the far wall, almost in a corner, a look of utterly helpless desperation and confusion on her face, chest heaving with labored, panicked breath, hair loosened from the long braid in which she usually wore it…

She was beautiful…

He sighed sadly. "What do you want?"

Her voice emerged as a pained whisper, her eyes wide and imploring: "You."

…and he was tired of fighting.

Shedding his cloak as he went and tossing it on the bed haphazardly, he strode purposefully to her. Her breath quickened as one hand snaked around to the back of her head and the other braced against the wall. Ten seconds passed like an eternity in the complete stillness, save their heavy breathing, before he abandoned caution and pretense, and crushed his mouth to hers.

As his fingers curled idly through long strands of her dark hair, he decided that she tasted sweet.

There was no clear understanding of time, nor of space, fears, frustrations… the galaxy could have been falling apart at the seams around them- which it pretty much was- and he wouldn't have given it more than a passing thought, if that. For too long had they struggled against each other, against this, and he was tired of it and knew what he wanted from her.

Her hands were on his shoulders, pulling him close, though she was already thoroughly pinned between him and the wall; and then fingers were lightly caressing his cheeks, scratching against the day's light growth of stubble. He seized that wrist and pinned it against the wall beside her head while his other arm slid around her waist as he stood flush against her.

His mouth left hers and she gasped for breath as he explored his way down across her throat, around to her collarbone, before sucking lightly on an earlobe and murmuring against her, "Do you want this?"

He did not need to ask- the Force provided him with more than enough to know that she was as eager as he was, though her anticipation was laced with the barest tinge of nervousness that was enough to make him seek a verbal confirmation as well.

A soft groan seemed all she was capable of for a moment, and so he ceased his ministrations long enough for her to regain her senses and give him a strangled, "Yes. Yes, I do, you know I do…"

"Then come here."

Taking her hand in his, he pulled her back towards the bed and sat down, reaching out for her waist and turning her around before pulling her down onto his lap. She tremblingly leaned back into his arms and shuddered as he ghosted kisses across her neck, even as his hands slowly undid the clasps of her jumpsuit; with every centimeter of skin he exposed along her back and shoulders, he devoted several seconds to lavishing the uncovered areas with kisses, occasionally finding a particularly sensitive spot and sucking lightly.

She kicked off the slipper-like shoes she had just bought earlier that day, and shimmied out of the jumpsuit when it was unfastened to her waist. A whole new sense of desire coursed through him as she turned, breathing heavily, cheeks flushed, clad in her undershirt and shorts. Small hands, shaking with anticipation, reached up and pulled the zipper of his black flight suit down his chest. Her hands snaked through the gap in the material and she wrapped her arms tightly around him even as he shrugged the sleeves over his shoulders and down his arms.

He started to slide the suit over his legs, and then bit back a curse upon realizing that he still wore his heavy boots. With a frustration that would have been amusing under any other circumstances, he tore at the laces, slid the boots from his feet and chucked them away haphazardly, removed the offending garment, and then pulled her back to the bed with him, where they enjoyed having one another in a similar state of semi-undress finally.

"You're so beautiful," he murmured softly as his hands slipped around her waist and he rolled her around so he was above her, braced on his elbows as he took in her eager expression, full of desire and adoration… and containing, still, that trace hint of nervousness. He leaned down and kissed her, and she responded whole-heartedly, though with more control than before. "I thought I'd lost my chance, that day on Eriadu," he confessed whisperingly. "And then back on base… can you forgive a fool?"

Her smile was sweet and sincere, even if her voice was low and unsteady. "You weren't a fool- you were right. I wasn't ready, wasn't prepared to know and admit what I wanted…"

His expression was piercing and serious. "And are you ready now?" She frowned lightly. "Leyla," he touched her cheek softly, "I don't care about Deren, or any other relationships you've had, they're over and in the past. But I am not some boy to be trifled with," his tone took on a hint of gentle warning. "I've waited for you, even with the prospect of little hope, and I'll continue waiting if I must, until you're ready to commit to something real and, hopefully, lasting."

For a long minute, she stared up at him in confusion… and then that faded into a chagrined embarrassment, and she went a deep pink and gently pushed him away. He rose up on his knees and then settled, cross-legged, on the bed across from her as she pulled herself into a seated position as well, hands twisting nervously in her lap.

"Vulcor, I, uh… _shavit_," she muttered, "It's just… I've been waiting too, you know."

He smiled gently, if a bit bemusedly, as he studied her face, glanced at her anxious hands, her eyes fixing themselves on the duvet determinedly…

And then he got it.

Starting slightly with the realization, he sat up straighter and winced as she flinched away from his surprise. "Leyla, you… I mean, I thought…"

"I _told_ you- Deren and I were friends," she said softly. "And I was only sixteen anyway."

"Even so, I… I don't know, I guess I just assumed that in the years since…"

Her face was still a steady shade of pink and she looked almost on the verge of tears- but despite it all, he couldn't stop the irony-laden chuckle from slipping past his lips. She looked hurt for a moment, but he hastened to reassure her. "I'm sorry, it's just… to think that _I_ was nervous- because I was worried about being… inadequately knowledgeable."

She blinked. "Really? You mean… never?" He smiled wryly.

"Never- when do you fancy I've had time for much romance in the past thirteen years?" After all, he'd spent the ages of twelve through nineteen in a secret underground bunker with no contact to the outside galaxy, and most of the years since on Ossus, as an instructor and overseer.

The giggle finally slipped past her lips as she relaxed, and the color faded from her cheeks. "How do you like this?" she murmured, laying out on the bed again and folding her hands over her stomach. "Two nervous virgins who didn't even realize that the _other_ was in the exact same situation." He slid back across the bed and laid down beside her, on his side facing her, one hand reaching out to rest atop her clasped ones on her belly. "I should have told you right away; I'm sorry."

"Don't be; it was unfair of me to assume otherwise."

Her eyes flickered over his face, a wry smile settling on her lips. "I suppose the moment's over."

He sighed lightly. "Let's say postponed; I… I want you," he stated bluntly. "Not your body- _you_. And when we have more time- the time to do this _right_…" he trailed away and she nodded, a bit reluctantly maybe, but accepting. "But…" he hesitated. "I would not be averse to it if you desired to… stay here tonight."

Her answering smile was broad and a bit teasing. "What, after all that work of getting this far-undressed, you don't want it to be for naught?"

He smirked. "Something like that." And he pulled her close against him and captured her lips in a searing kiss before she could make an obligatory noise of protest.

X-X-X-X


	30. Chapter 29

**A/N: **Ah, almost done. Just a couple chapters to go. :-( Similarly, my epic moving/traveling journeys are almost over (well, until we get to do it all over again in 6 months- woo).

**Chapter 29**

_Bastion_

Vulcor did not rescind his leave of absence, but he didn't leave Bastion as planned either. Over the course of the next three days, he and Leyla fell into a comfortable companionship that was more about reestablishing the friendship they had once had than anything else. Granted, it might have involved a little more sitting curled up together on the oversized sofa in Leyla's suite, and quite a bit more kissing when they were parting ways- or, more likely, for no good reason at all- but they did not press their relationship, did not concern themselves with talks of the future or of defining just what that relationship was.

It wasn't avoidance of the subject- it was part of a strategy which the Fels and Durrons were subscribing to that seemed to center around getting Leyla to relax.

He'd held a reasonably lengthy conversation with Jaina the day after his arrival, mildly uncomfortable through the whole thing since he'd spent the night before with his arms wrapped around her daughter. Jaina was worried about Leyla; they all were. And Vulcor understood more about Leyla's anxiety than any of them did, except perhaps, Zekk, Tahlia, and Cem, the former two of whom were distracted by their young son, the latter of whom was constantly dealing with matters of his fleet, most of which had returned to Wild Space, or dealing with the Leadership Council.

Fortunately for him, Jaina seemed to have resigned herself to the fact that all of them who had been involved in Cem's secret war had secrets of their own and amongst one another, things that they just wouldn't discuss with anyone else. But she was a concerned mother and, just as she had sent Vulcor after Leyla when she was worried for her safety, she was asking him now when she was worried about her head.

Vulcor, in turn, started paying attention to the little things, the little signs that he would have overlooked had they not been spending so much time together. She often fell into long lapses of silence, even when surrounded by family or friends, looking away distractedly and not registering much of anything going on around her; her appetite was lessened, and she had a tendency of picking dully at her food rather than eating it as she brooded.

And then there was the sleeping. That first night, the night she spent in his quarters, he'd woken early the next morning and thought initially that she'd left in the night. Sensing his wakefulness though, she'd called to him from the living area where he found her curled up in an armchair that dwarfed her, feet drawn up under her body, holding a hot mug in both hands, not really even drinking it as she sat in the darkened and quiet room. She'd smiled up at him and joined him on the sofa when he turned on the HoloNet News, dozing lightly again before stirring, yawning, and declaring that she needed to head back up to her own room.

Now, three nights later, he woke in the middle of the night and found her missing, this time from her own bed. He didn't have to look long- indeed, he didn't even need to move- as she was sitting on the wide ledge of the huge viewport of her bedroom that overlooked the city of Ravelin, her knees drawn up to her chest, arms wrapped around her legs, staring out into the night at the glowing city lights.

"I think I like Bastion more than Coruscant," she murmured softly, not needing to turn to know he was awake and watching her. "On an aesthetic level, anyway."

"Leyla?"

She sighed and leaned her head back against the wall behind her, gaze shifting upwards, as though to look beyond the night sky into space above, where the Imperial Home Fleet continued to orbit… where _The Hand_ continued to orbit. "He's back."

"Are you sure?" She nodded absently, still looking towards the sky. "How can you tell?"

With a shake of her head, she finally turned to look at him, brown eyes tired and wary. "I don't know. I just can."

Tossing the covers away, Vulcor slid out of the bed and crossed over to the window ledge, wrapping a comforting arm around her shoulders; she leaned sideways against him, and he could feel the exhaustion pouring from her in the Force as much as he could feel the tension in her shoulders, in her back, as he touched her. "Have you any idea what he plans to do now?"

"Cem says he's done."

"You don't believe him?"

She shrugged, relaxing further into his arms. "I think there's always a next. That next doesn't have to be bad or malicious, but I don't doubt it will be sneaky to the utmost. Why else risk a return to Imperial Space?"

"What will you do?"

A light chuckle escaped her, and she turned and slid off of the bench and wrapped her arms around him, pressing her cheek against his chest, feeling the beating of his heart. "I don't know," she murmured. "Try to find a way to sneak up to _The Hand_ and talk to him, I guess, but…"

"But that will only leave you more confused than ever before," Vulcor concluded succinctly, and she smiled lightly. "Well, do you think it can wait until morning?"

"What time is it?"

He glanced at the chrono on the bedside table. "About oh-three-thirty."

Her uncertainty was all-too-clear, but he took her hand and pulled her back to the bed, drawing her down next to him and pulling the thick blanket back over them both. "Sleep," he whispered against her ear. "Thrawn can't take over the galaxy at three-thirty any more than you can stop him from doing so from here."

Half-turning, she grinned cheekily. "Such romantic pillow talk."

He silenced her with a kiss. "I'm serious. You don't sleep enough, just like you don't eat enough. If there's any possibility of some kind of brewing conflict, you shouldn't go into it like this, stressed and physically worn."

"Must you always be so reasonable?"

"Yes," he kissed her a last time, drawing this one out a little longer before letting his head fall back against his pillow. "Now go to sleep."

X-X-X-X

It was very early when he opened his eyes and sensed something out of place. It was an instinct often shared by military commanders as low as the squadron level and as high as fleet command. The Force had nothing to do with it, it was a sort of sixth sense that separated the good officers from the great ones. It had less to do with specifics and more to do with a general sense that all was not as it seemed, a sense that could allow an insightful commander to avoid a trap, or spring it in such a way as to work to his advantage. It was an instinct-

-and at ninety-seven years old, Gilad Pellaeon's instincts were as sharp as ever.

Sitting up slowly and getting carefully out of bed- he was ninety-seven, after all- Pellaeon frowned lightly as he stared at the closed door of his bedroom, thinking, listening… and then a wry smile settled on his lips as he began to dress slowly, methodically, in his grey uniform that he still wore for formal occasions, a uniform with all of the accoutrements pinned to the chest depicting a lifetime of service to the Imperial Navy, if one knew how to read them properly. He ran a comb through thinning grey hair, proud of the fact that his hand did not shake even the slightest as he performed such dull daily tasks at his advanced age.

When he was done dressing and grooming himself, he stopped and studied his appearance in the full-sized mirror that he so rarely had occasion to use; and when satisfied, he straightened his back and shoulders, kept his head high, and left the bedroom of his impressive and unnecessarily ornate suite of the Imperial Palace.

He crossed the main living area and went down a second short hallway that contained two extra bedrooms that were never used, a private sitting room where he often sat and spoke at length with Vitor, and an office that he found himself with less and less occasion to use as time went on.

It was to this office that he headed.

With slow and deliberate footsteps, he crossed to and stopped in front of the door. Hesitating only the briefest of moments, he waved his palm in front of the sensor and the door slid silently aside to admit him. And with a deep breath, straightening again unconsciously, Pellaeon stepped through-

Into a softly lit art museum.

The low chuckle broke his composure a moment, but he recovered himself as he strode slowly around his redesigned office, peering at the works that were familiar, but distantly so. Nevertheless, he remembered each one with keen detail.

"Saffa paintings," he remarked quietly, stopping at the first collection on the wall to the left of the door. "1550 to 2200, Pre-Empire Date. Displays similarities," he strode onwards to the next set, displayed further down the same wall, "to Paonidd extrassa art and," he finally crossed the room and peered down at the last object, a sculpture, "the Vaathkree flatsculp, eighteenth-century Pre-Empire." Lastly, he turned slowly to the single other occupant of the room, sitting calmly behind his desk, hands clasped in front of him, eyes half-closed.

"All holographic, of course."

"Of course." The chiss opened his eyes fully and studied the man before him a moment, a wry twitch to his lips. "You are looking well this morning, Admiral Pellaeon."

"And you are looking… young, Grand Admiral Thrawn."

The twitch blossomed into a full grin, even as he closed his eyes again and shook his head in bemusement. "Admiral," he repeated softly. "_Grand_ Admiral. That, Gilad, was another lifetime."

"Literally."

"Yes," the smile widened, "literally." He opened his eyes again and peered curiously at the old human who was settling himself slowly in a chair across the desk. "Does that bother you?"

Pellaeon considered that question for some time, thinking hard. After a couple minutes of thoughtful silence, though, he shrugged. "Perhaps it might have in the past. Now though… at my age, few things are worth such distraction." Thrawn nodded and leaned back to consider his one-time captain. "Will I regret it if I ask for what I'm sure is a convoluted and sordid tale of how you have accomplished such a feat, and the recent impressive prevention of galactic chaos?"

"Ah," Thrawn sighed, "you just might, but it is not a tale I am unwilling to divulge with you, in due course.

"But you require something else first."

"I must indeed ask one more thing of you- something to ensure that this opportunity is not wasted, as the galaxy hovers on the brink, poised to either enter an era of unprecedented cooperation and prosperity, or descend once more into bitter suspicion and rivalry." Pellaeon nodded slowly, eyes curious and calculating. "But first, I must ask about your successor, Admiral Reige."

"He is an exceptionally capable leader, both militarily and politically."

Thrawn looked thoughtful. "I confess, I have found his actions to be impressive, his decisions wisely made. Though I must wonder to what extent you were encouraging him in those choices."

"We discussed them, to be sure," Pellaeon returned lightly, "but Vitor follows his own council, ultimately. He certainly put the pieces of Captain Fel's identity together quickly enough."

The subtle shift of the chiss's expression might have been mild surprise. "Did he? And I would have thought that _you_ put _him_ on the right path." Pellaeon shook his head and smiled faintly. "Well, I stand by my assessment- you chose your successor well, Gilad."

"I'm sure he would appreciate your high opinion, could he ever know you had given it."

Thrawn tilted his head to the side, eyes narrowed slightly. "You know- he even looks like you, in your younger days of our acquaintance."

"You think so?"

He thought about it a moment longer. "Hm… a bit."

"Well," Pellaeon sat back comfortably, "he probably takes more after his mother." Thrawn's blue-black brow rose smoothly. "She was always a very obliging sort." Thrawn's lips quirked, and Pellaeon sighed. "What is it that you need?"

X-X-X-X

The same five beings who had questioned Leyla some five days prior were assembled as they had done every day since, each representative of his own base of power. Cem's power was effectively unilateral; the Empire of the Hand was based in military doctrine, did not have a Senate, like the Alliance, a council of Moffs and governors, like the Empire. Luke Skywalker and Aristocra Adr'igi'sabosen spoke on behalf of ruling councils of Jedi Masters of Ruling Families, respectively. It was a calm group, none being prone to outbursts of emotion, be it from anger or frustration.

It was a calm group, but the rising tension could not be denied. The leaders were now all faced with the prospect of tying the galaxy together once more, under one banner; an alliance of semi-independent states, just as before, but with some key changes.

Unity was essential, collective security necessary. Soontir Fel had predicted some ten years prior that the Ascendancy could not survive in its isolationist state, and he had nearly proven correct. Isolation and disdain for the rest of the galaxy had not saved the Chiss from Ryoqim's notice and ill-intentions. The Ascendancy had made its choice, in the time of the Yuuzhan Vong war, a choice that could not be as easily undone as they had wished… a choice to be part of a larger galactic community. A choice with which they were now reluctantly willing to follow through, except…

What did being part of the larger galactic community- part of the Galactic Alliance- entail?

Because if there was one thing made obvious in the events of the past three months, it was that the Galactic Alliance was too fragile, too easily corrupted and undone. And while those who carried over from the New Republic, those such as Leia Organa Solo and Cal Omas, had championed the principles of choice of membership, of the ability to secede from that Alliance when it no longer suited the needs of the system…

Perhaps they had made it _too_ easy; especially for entire political entities such as the Ascendancy and the Remnant. As Jagged Fel had pointed out some nine years prior before a session of parliament in Csaplar, the merits of one man should not be judged differently simply because the political climate is changing, and the same held true of the Alliance. The Ascendancy had withdrawn because the overall atmosphere of government had turned towards conservative isolationism once more, in the years following the war, and a body that was allowed to secede and rejoin as the mood changed, as those in power shifted, could not be trusted to do its part when it mattered.

They could not sit comfortably in their ornate conference room in Ravelin forever; indeed, time was running short. An advisory council on Coruscant comprised of members of the cabinet, and the military advisory council was doing its best to run things in the chaotic days since the brief but horrifying conflict, while Gavin Darklighter did his best to wrangle the firepower of the Alliance. Reige and Cem had fleets to attend to.

But while it was agreed that the Galactic Alliance Charter required some close re-reading and reevaluation, figuring out how to accomplish that in a manner that mutually suited everyone present was threatening to end the process before it truly began. While it was agreed that a Reconstruction Committee should be established to look into the matter- and other issues pertaining to recent events- it invariably devolved into argument when it came to the question of how to run the council. None were keen on setting a single being at its head, but the Ruling Families, according to Adr'igi'sabosen, were reluctant to put their faith in a democratic body, fearing the inherent alliance between the Jedi, the GA, and the Empire of the Hand under Cem, lest such ties continually work to the disadvantage of the Ascendancy and the Remnant.

A sixth person was present today though, and Gilad Pellaeon was a man well-known to and respected by all of the others, who recognized his past endeavors at forging a peace that had long been considered impossible, at later staking the Empire as part of the foundation of the early days of the GA.

The old man, straight and proud as he regarded those seated around him carefully, smiled faintly. "My friends," he began quietly, "you find yourselves at a difficult crossroads; I understand that, having been there several times in the past myself. But at every such challenging juncture, there is an opportunity that, if you only have the courage and faith to reach for it, can set the course for remarkable things to come.

"I have a suggestion," he continued softly, "that can, I think, solve your current dilemma. And unorthodox though it may be, I strongly urge you to consider."

X-X-X-X

When the Leadership Council took a midday break to rest and eat, Cem found himself heading towards his quarters in a sort of infuriated haze, incredulity still foremost on his mind, at what had just transpired among them. And he knew exactly who had been behind the idea, and that said individual would be waiting for him.

He was right.

"I told her," Cem snarled as the door closed to his suite, "that you were done. I told her that it was finished."

"And it is," Thrawn answered him evenly.

"Not after this!"

Thrawn remained unmoved. "It was the only way."

"That is not a point on which Leyla will be inclined to agree with you."

"Jedi Solo-Fel need not agree, she need only accept it."

Cem's jaw clenched angrily as he fought the urge to storm back out of the suite and put as much distance between himself and the cloned chiss as possible. "And if she does neither?"

"Then I suggest you find a way to make her, Captain."

Shaking his head slowly, Cem found himself jolted by the impassiveness of the other's voice, by his cold determination. "How can you do this to her?" he asked softly. "After all she did for you… for your people you have so desperately worked to protect, even from afar…" Thrawn said nothing, and Cem bit angrily, "And how long have you been in cohoots with Pellaeon?"

A brow rose curiously. "It hardly matters now."

"It matters to me."

"Three months."

"Since I disappeared, you mean."

"Yes."

"How?"

Thrawn considered a moment. "Art."

Cem stared. "Art?"

"Art, Captain Fel." A shade of exasperation touched his eerie eyes. "Do you truly believe Reige would have had the foresight to reforge the link with the Ascendancy had it not been suggested? That he would have turned so decisively on Niathal had Gilad not already been aware that her motives were suspect?"

Letting out a heavy breath, Cem sank down into a chair and rubbed his eyes. "You have certainly been busier than you let on, _Crahsystor_." He looked back up into the chiss's eyes, expression hard. "You better prepare yourself for the wrath Leyla will unleash on you when she finds out about this."

X-X-X-X


	31. Chapter 30

**Chapter 30**

_Bastion_

It took three days for Leyla to find an opportunity to journey into orbit without raising awkward questions from her family- primarily, the question of what need she could have to visit _The Hand_ when all of her family were in the palace, not to mention Vulcor, Zekk, Tahlia, Taseek… everyone she could possibly have had an interest in seeing with ties to the Empire of the Hand was already readily accessible to her.

The chance did present itself though in a day when Syd, her aunt Wyn's husband, was returning from the Home Fleet for a weekend pass at home with his wife and daughter. They invited the rest of the family for a relaxing day away from the Imperial Palace; Leyla regretfully declined, but urged her mother and stepfather to go with Naviin, and even Mara decided to go along for the adventure.

As for Kyp and Gennevi, they had kept suspiciously to themselves over the past week. At first, Leyla wondered if something was wrong with her father and stepmother, but they seemed content enough when she did see them, but they did not make as active an effort to spend time with the Fel and Skywalker clans, and mostly let Leyla come to them when she wanted to be sociable. Which, she reflected a bit guiltily, had been even less frequent since Vulcor had turned up some six days ago now. Nevertheless, they seemed unlikely to notice if she disappeared for a few hours.

Then came the technical element of the problem. As her ship had been thoroughly buried on the abandoned moon of Ithor, she was without her own transportation. Wanting to keep her trip under the radar, it seemed unwise to formally request or rent some means of transportation, even if it was just for a brief jaunt up into orbit, but that problem was solved by Vulcor, whose own Stealth fighter had been sitting in a hangar of the Star Destroyer since his arrival, as he had shuttled down with Olyxes in tow.

And so the day before she planned to enact her scheme, he arranged transportation up to _The Hand_ to retrieve his fighter, which Leyla would, in turn, use to journey back and forth the following day, and anyone who bothered to care about checking the registration and transponder codes would simply assume that he had made the trip. But as Vulcor did not have numerous family members in the palace interested in his doings and whereabouts, the matter was unlikely to be further investigated.

The plan almost worked.

She turned off her comlink before she even left her suite; if anyone did happen to be looking for her, it was an honest enough mistake to miss the call if she turned it off to take a nap. It was mid-morning, a time when people were roaming the palace doing their work, people were coming in and out for meetings. There was a lot of traffic, but much of it in passing, people who wouldn't know or care who she was, and she blended in with such crowds as she made her way down the busiest corridors on her way to the hangar where Vulcor had left his ship. Her black flightsuit would make her unremarkable to the average observer.

She made her way to the hangar without incident; she walked confidently past dozens of bays, smiled broadly at techs who wouldn't remember her in another ten minutes anyway, and finally reached the berth where the Stealth craft lay in wait.

There was no astromech unit but she didn't need one, especially for such a short trip as this. The flight helmet was already inside the cockpit, so she leapt gracefully to the wing of the fighter with the aid of the Force, before a tech could bother to notice her and try to bring a ladder. And as she reached down into the open-canopied cockpit and grabbed the helmet, a voice behind her nearly made her lose her balance and fall.

"Jedi Fel."

When she was assured of her balance, she whirled and glared- and then started in pleasant surprise and mild confusion to see Yilina and Fyaru standing there watching her. With a resigned sigh, she leapt back down, helmet in hand, and crossed over to the two chiss, smiling lightly. "You're back," she looked them up and down, decided they looked none the worse for wear.

"You're leaving," Yilina returned sardonically, with a pointed glance at the helmet in her hand.

Leyla shrugged. "Just needed some air."

"In space?"

She pursed her lips at Fyaru's dry tone and looked at them expectantly. "What do you need? I'd love to catch up, but can it wait a few hours?"

A subtle look was exchanged between them. "No," Yilina informed her. "We are not here on a social call. Your presence is requested."

"My presence?" she asked, nonplussed. "Where?"

"Conference room S-one-four-four-seven," Fyaru responded succinctly.

The Leadership Council then. Frustrated, she rubbed at her eyes. "What do they want _now_?"

Yilina blinked. "Your presence."

Biting back the retort that rose to her lips, Leyla turned and resignedly tossed the helmet back into Vulcor's cockpit and followed the two out of the hangar, feeling oddly like she was being escorted by some form of personal security- or possibly by authorities taking her to trial. She turned her comlink back on and clicked a two-tone message to Vulcor that signaled her plan had been scrapped. And then it occurred to her that, for someone trying to keep her visit to _The Hand_ discreet, it looked awfully odd for her to be wearing her black flightsuit. "Do you suppose the council has the patience for me to change into something a bit more innocuous?"

The two chiss exchanged another fast look. "I'm sure it would be acceptable," Yilina decided, and they changed course to head back to Leyla's suite, where she stripped down to her underthings and then donned her tan tunic and leggings and brown robe that made her most recognizable as as Jedi. It was the closest thing to formal or official garments she had.

The two were strangely silent as they walked with her back down to the indicated conference room, ignoring her queries of their whereabouts in the past ten days. And when they reached the door, Yilina waved it open and motioned Leyla forward; neither followed.

It was a similar picture to her first meeting with them all, but not identical. For one, there was an extra person, Belotab's chief of staff, Wynn Dorvan. Secondly, they were arranged a bit differently around the table, and she found herself motioned into an empty seat between Luke and Cem, effectively trapped in the middle of five of the most important men in the galaxy, with Dorvan at the head of the table, a datapad in front of him, perhaps keeping notes or minutes.

"Am I in trouble now?" she finally asked after several seconds of mildly uncomfortable silence. Cem suppressed a laugh at her side.

Luke smiled and assured her, "No, Leyla, not at all."

Reige sat directly across from her, and as he leaned forward, meeting her eyes steadily, it occurred to Leyla just how purposefully structured this whole setup was- her uncle and great-uncle on either side of her, perhaps for comfort's sake, with the effective leader of the group, the man on whose territory they were sitting, was directly across and best-poised to lead interrogation number two.

"Jedi Solo-Fel," the Imperial admiral began, "perhaps we should first discuss what this council has been deliberating for the better part of the past week." Leyla frowned heavily; for an interrogation, that wasn't a very commanding way to begin. "We have all come to be painfully aware of the deficiencies of the Galactic Alliance in recent weeks and months… and years, yes. And the faults which, perhaps would not have prevented this latest crisis, if remedied, would certainly have made it more difficult to accomplish, are not to be blamed on any single being, or even on those who worked so tirelessly twenty years ago to create that Alliance."

She stared at him blankly, not really seeing where this was going.

Reige smiled faintly and continued. "The Galactic Alliance was an experiment; largely a successful one, but one in which the complications could not be wholly foreseen due to lack of historical precedent. To have such expansive political bodies come together under one banner, while retaining some measure of peaceful semi-independence… problems have arisen." He nodded respectfully to the Aristocra by his side. "As the Ascendancy experienced, shifting views on galactic responsibility, on the merits of isolation… they seceded with no more hassle than any small mid-rim world could do.

"Obviously," he sighed, "the goal is not to transform the GA into a tyrannical entity which forces its rules upon worlds with no say whatsoever; that too, has been seen all too recently. But the question of how to prevent such a fracturing in the future, as we have seen here recently- be it the breaks between Coruscant, Bastion, and Csilla, or the split of Sullust and Bothawui- is one that _must _be addressed. Unfortunately," his lips quirked, "now is not the time and we are not the people to do it. The galaxy has not stopped turning due to recent events, and those of us here have pressing responsibilities that cannot wait much longer."

Sitting back, he folded his hands on the table in front of him and watched her closely. "We're settled on establishing a galactic-wide Reconstruction Committee that will look at these questions in the coming months and years, recommend and implement amendments to the Galactic Alliance Charter, deal with problems as they come up… rather than wait until the problem becomes potentially catastrophic.

"This committee will be comprised of individuals appointed by the five of us; in the case of the Aristocra, appointed by the Council of Ruling Families, and likewise by the Masters' Council, in the case of Master Skywalker. A committee that is comprised from the existing political bodies but which stands wholly independent from any one of them. The problem though," he leaned forward again and held her gaze, "is what to do when the committee itself faces problems. Some justifiable concerns were raised about the idea of a democratic system, with only five members. Three versus two is hardly a strong majority, in matters of such great concern for us all. No," he said quietly, "it was recommended- and agreed upon- that a sixth person act as overseer of the committee, a high councilor with veto power over majority rulings but who doesn't hold a vote themselves. Someone trusted to equally weigh the concerns of all parties and make balanced and just decisions… someone appointed by _this_ council with unanimous consent."

She couldn't help it- an incredulous huff slipped past her lips, and everyone turned to look at her. Leyla went abruptly pink. "Sorry," she muttered, "and no offense, but that sounds like a tall order to me. How many names have you gone through already?" No one said anything, and she slunk down in her chair. "I'll be quiet- sorry."

Cem glanced down at her. "As a matter of fact- we've discussed exactly one name- at great length, for three days. And last night, we finally received the last vote in favor necessary to confirm the unanimity, and now only seek the acceptance of the nominee, as it were."

She stared up at him blankly. "So… why don't you ask him?"

"Her."

"So why don't you ask her?"

A look of gentle patience settled on Reige's face. "That is what I'm doing."

Three beats passed and then, slowly, the utter confusion on Leyla's face was replaced by utter horror, and she looked wildly around the room at the faces peering intently at her. "You _must_ be joking."

"On the contrary," Reige assured her softly. "We are quite serious. Will you accept?"

She stood slowly, looking around desperately and seeing looks ranging from the cool calculation of the Aristocra, to semi-pity from Luke and Belotab, to intent curiosity from Cem and Reige. "It's absurd," she murmured faintly. "Two of you are my relatives, for crying out loud, surely that's grounds for a mistrial, or something…"

"Jedi Solo-Fel, you are not facing charges, you realize," Wynn Dorvan quipped drily from the far end of the table.

She continued as though she had not heard him. "The Chiss _hate_ me," she stared pointedly at the Aristocra, "there's no way the Aristocra wasn't coerced into this or something…"

"Jedi Fel," the Aristocra leaned over to catch her gaze with glowing eyes, "there is no coercion. Surely a talented Jedi such as yourself could see through such a ploy? I- and the Council of Ruling Families- will accept you. Can you accept us?"

"I…" she looked desperately at her great-uncle, who wore his 'this is your decision and I can't make it for you' face. Slowly, she turned to her last hope, her uncle sitting on her left side, looking pleadingly at him… and then froze at the horrible truth written on his face, the wearied guilt in his eyes. "You… he…" she pushed her chair aside and backed away from the table, as though it might leap up and attack her at any moment. "This was _his_ doing," she said faintly. "Where is he?"

"Leyla…"

"Where is he, Cem?" she demanded, and then stormed out of the conference room.

Several seconds passed in utter silence, until Dorvan shrugged and said drily, "Well… that went well."

X-X-X-X

He was waiting for her, alone, and she knew that he'd expected her, just as he foresaw nearly everything else that went on around them- and she was sick of it.

It was a plain and unused room of the Imperial Palace, it seemed, holoscreens dark and silent on the walls, dimly lit with a small table set for six in the center; a briefing room by design, she thought. But Thrawn was not sitting at the table, he stood tall, hands behind his back, staring out a viewport over the decorated inner courtyard from the position high within the palace.

And as she forcefully slapped the panel to shut the door behind her, he spoke in even tones, but did not turn to face her. "You are angry with me."

She wanted to yell at him, to scream in frustration and, instead, forced herself to speak with measured calmness even as she clenched her hands into fists at her side. "You did this. You put them up to this absurd notion."

"It is not absurd."

"Of course it is!" she snapped.

"Why?" he asked with infuriating calmness.

A strangled noise of disbelief escaped her and she lost some of her composure. "I'm no politician and I never will be."

She could sense the wry amusement in his voice. "But they don't want a politician; the galaxy wearies of politicians. It was a politician who almost succeeded in tearing the galaxy apart. They want a leader, a figurehead, a banner under which to rally."

"I'm twenty years old."

"And therefore, you are yet uncorrupted."

"_Power_ corrupts," she pointed out harshly.

He finally turned smoothly and met her desperate eyes. "Yes," he acknowledged softly, "it does. But the power you would wield in such a position would be of a different sort, would have more long-term ramifications than short-term, would be about establishing a better _future_ first and foremost… and above all, you would serve to justly settle disputes among the Committee, not around the galaxy. And as a Jedi, you have a heavily imbued sense of justice. The chancellors of old were Jedi," he commented idly.

"And the _last_ chancellor tore this galaxy apart."

"He was not Jedi."

"He was a Force-user."

"Are the two truly interchangeable?"

She was silent and fuming for a long minute before she slumped slightly and some of the fight left her eyes in her weariness. With a mirthless chuckle, she slipped into the nearest chair and closed her eyes, leaning her head back against the leather backing. "How long did it take to convince the Aristocra to ratify the choice?"

Thrawn slowly sat down across from her, peering closely at her, though she did not open her eyes. "As I understand it, the Aristocra himself readily concurred with the wisdom of it, though his assent was impossible until he had the blessing of the rest of the Ruling Families."

"It's really quite ridiculous, isn't it?" she asked faintly. "On one side, we have the Ascendancy, which despises my stepfather's family; on another, the Empire that hates my father for what he did as a teenager. In the middle, we have Cem and Luke, my _relatives_, and poor Ferrin Belotab who-"

"Master Skywalker was the last to agree," Thrawn interrupted her softly. "It was his vote, and that of the Masters' Council, on which they have been waiting." She finally cracked an eye open in mild interest at that fact. "As for the Ascendancy- you made quite the impression on them during the events on Csilla, and according to your uncle, during your earlier interview with the council."

"Csilla?" she repeated. "That's absurd," she finally sat up again angrily, "I thought I had no choice; if anything, that whole experience made me look like a self-sacrificial imbecile!"

He met her angry gaze with calm patience. "Jedi Solo-Fel, anyone else would have simply flown the freighter to any of thousands of planets where the chiss population is negligible to nonexistent."

"The pathogen had a propensity towards mutation," she snarled, "you expect me to have released it and hope for the best?"

"No!" he cried, "I expected you to do exactly as you did, in the circumstances under which you found yourself. And don't you see that _that_ is why the Aristocra has come to respect you? You made a cool and level-headed decision, and calmly accepted the fact that your own demise was the only way to guarantee the survival of a planetful of a race that has shunned you; you chose to go willingly to your death, rather than risk contaminating another world with an unpredictable bio-weapon, rather than risk that weapon falling into another set of malicious hands."

She stared at him evenly for a long time. "And once I was recovered, you began determining how to play me for the greater galactic good? Once you realized that the Ascendancy could be brought in line with the others?"

"No," he countered honestly, "that experience only made it easier to move the Ruling Families in the right direction; in fact, I had wondered how long the matter would take, until then."

Uncomprehending for a long time, she frowned and shook her head slowly. "What are you talking about?" He eyed her with the expression that she had come to associate with his calm patience while she worked through his schemes on her own. "You- Thrawn," she paled, "how long have you planned this? This is not some simple opportunistic whim, is it?"

"I did tell you, in the early days of our acquaintance, that I had waited a long time to meet you."

"Nabrin knew," she said dully. "You… you chose wisely, he said. He…" she swallowed thickly. "He was talking about _me_."

Thrawn nodded. "You are of a heritage that is deeply steeped in all of the cultures here represented. I have long known that a galaxy torn asunder could only be brought back together under one who can claim a legitimacy across the banners of political power- you have gone beyond even that. You have earned their respect in your own right, and not just because of who your parents or your grandparents are."

Leyla closed her eyes again, remembering once more being presented before the self-proclaimed leader of Red Hand- and being informed that she was a 'special little girl' who would one day rule the galaxy. The irony was almost funny. Almost. "I don't suppose it makes a difference to you that I really don't want this."

"Actually," a voice called softly from the doorway, "it makes a world of difference." She turned bleakly towards her great-uncle Luke and offered a wan smile. "Unfortunately, it is not the difference you were hoping for. One who disdains having the power is much less likely to abuse it- or be tempted to abuse it." He sat down by her side and laid a hand gently over hers on the table. "Leyla," he spoke softly, "I will not urge you to accept or refuse the request of the council; but it is a decision that must be reached on your own, when you are calm and at peace. You alone can decide if to step up now will serve the interests of the galaxy- and the interests of self." He paused, glanced once between his great-niece and the chiss across the table, and then sighed. "Mitth'raw'nuruodo cannot help you in this."

Leyla glanced quickly at the chiss across from her, but he seemed unsurprised; indeed, purplish lips twitched in slight amusement, and he inclined his head towards Luke in acknowledgement. The Jedi Master nodded stiffly back. "Mara and I wondered for a long time if there was another clone out there."

"Did you destroy the first?" Thrawn asked with a keen curiosity. Leyla shot a surprised look at her uncle.

Luke nodded slowly. "Unintentionally, but yes, it was our doing."

He made no apologies, and Thrawn did not seem to expect any.

"Leyla," Luke turned back to her, "we will reconvene tomorrow, when you have had some time to think."

"Did… do mom and Kyp know…?"

He shook his head slowly. "No; Mara does, but suggested that all family abstain from the decision. And then it just seemed… prudent… to wait to tell them until there was something to say. Jacen knows, but he too abstained from the vote."

She slumped down in her seat and closed her eyes again, feeling the infuriating welling of frustrated tears in her eyes. "Why me?" she whispered.

Thrawn's voice carried an unusual sympathy. "Because you have a talent for quickly and accurately assessing the details of a situation and drawing meaningful conclusions from them. Because you use those conclusions and take initiative to better fulfill your goals. Because you are slow to anger and not given to hasty and hot-headed confrontation when you do. Because you carry a compassion that extends beyond the limits of those you call friend or family.

"And because," he murmured softly, "upon finding yourself aboard a seemingly hostile ship, surrounded by those you thought to be your enemies, your first reaction was to ask after the wellbeing of another."

A deeper understanding was beginning to dawn on her, as she recognized the greater extent of Thrawn's cool calculation since the very moment she had first met him, and probably long before then even. Part of her wanted to be angry, _furious_, at the way he had orchestrated this, but on the other hand, she realized that he had never manipulated her; played her, perhaps, but never manipulated. Because, for all of the actions on which he was basing this ludicrous scheme- her near sacrifice over Csilla, the summoning of Ta'yen and the Senex fleet… and yes, her calm demand to know of Vulcor's fate- given the circumstances surrounding them, she'd have done none of them differently.

And _that_, she grudgingly supposed, was his point.

X-X-X-X

When Vulcor opened the door, she slid silently past him, not quite meeting his eyes even as she smiled weakly in greeting. He touched the control panel and the door slid shut again, and he followed her to the next room where she sat slumped on the edge of the bed, head wearily resting in one hand. "Leyla?" he asked softly. "What's wrong? What happened to your trip space-ward?"

He could feel the turmoil roiling through her, had felt it the moment she had lightly touched his mind to forewarn him that she was coming by. His dark eyes didn't leave her as he waited with gentle patience for her to come to grips with whatever she had come here to say. As always with her, specifics were difficult to read, but he could sense the frustration, the resignation, and a bit of both sadness and fear. And when she finally raised her soft eyes up to meet his, they shone with moisture and were wide with helplessness.

Vulcor sat by her side and tentatively put a hand on her shoulder, surprised when she leaned heavily against him. Wrapping an arm around her, he turned and pressed a gentle kiss to her hair, and waited another minute longer, before her quiet but forcedly steady voice asked, "When you said you'd be waiting for me… just how long how are you willing to do so?"

Stiffening slightly in utter surprise, it took a moment for him to find his tongue. "As long as it takes," he murmured reluctantly back. "Leyla- what's happened?"

In a firmly controlled tone, she told him everything, speaking slowly and evenly for the better part of ten whole minutes. And when she was done, her resolve crumpled, and she cried in his arms.

He pulled her further onto the bed and coaxed her to lie down, arms wrapped tightly around her shaking and sobbing frame. It was a struggle to keep his own emotions subdued, so she would not feel the anger coursing through him and add to her distress; but he could not help but be furious with Luke and Cem for doing this to their own kin, to someone as young, as innocent, as _pure_ as Leyla.

As for Thrawn, however, Vulcor couldn't force himself to feel any measure of surprise. The chiss was a master strategist and manipulator, and Vulcor hadn't trusted him from the start for any number of reasons- and this was just one more thing to add to the list.

"What do I tell them?" she finally asked blearily, burrowing against the warmth and perceived safety of his arms, of his body pressed firmly against hers. And then, hesitating, she added softly, "If you ask me to turn them down, I'll do it."

He swallowed thickly. "I can't do that; you know I can't." She twisted around in his arms to face him, but he stopped the protest before it could slip past her lips. "Leyla, as I suspect you are already fully aware, this has to be your decision- I won't make it for you. But I will point out…" he traced a finger down a cheek and across her lips before kissing her lightly, "Based upon what you've told me, it sounds that details are probably not fully hammered out yet- which means that to agree would be to have a say in the negotiations of what just such a role might entail. To agree is not to surrender your life to the whims of others; they need you right now more than you need them. Use that."

Despite herself, a small smile tugged at Leyla's lips, and she laughed weakly as she brushed a tear from her right cheek. "That doesn't sound very Jedi," she teased. "How very extortionist of you, Vulcor." His answering smile was a bit sad though, and she sighed. "I thought that, with the crisis ended, with the Jedi helping restore order in all the worlds that went through political upheavals recently…" she buried her face against his chest, speaking mutedly through his robe, "I thought we would serve in the effort as long as needed, but that we could do it together, we could be partners, and you could get me out of trouble everywhere we went…"

He grinned cheekily. "Sounds like true love right there."

"But we won't be able to have that; not anytime soon, anyway…"

"Leyla," he leaned away and cupped her cheek, drawing her face up so she would meet his eyes, "I've said I'll wait, and I meant it. You'll do this for a few years- you've already decided, I can see it in your eyes- and then you'll sit back and watch as the mended galaxy becomes the problem of somebody else."

She nodded reluctantly and he moved in for another kiss, one that was slow and sensual and full of promise and devotion. After a moment, in an agreement that was just as unspoken as it was wholly recognized between them, he sat up and unfastened the belt that tied around the waist of his tunic, letting it fall open and reveal his bare chest as he leaned forward and untied hers as well with unsteady hands as her chest rose and fell with heavy breaths.

There was a grey undershirt beneath her tunic, and she pulled herself upright, eyes burning with need for him- for _them_- and proceeded to finish undressing.

When he made love to her after an hour of kissing and touching, stroking, exploring, it was slow and sweet, a wholly new experience for both of them- and all the more meaningful for it. He traced light kisses all across her face and murmured a constant flow of words- some sweet, some nonsense, and some promises. "I'll wait for you," he mumbled, kissing her neck, "As long as you need, I'll wait for you, you're mine and I'm yours, and there's no other and never has been and never will be…"

Afterwards, he held her close as they calmed again, and stroked her hair and kissed her naked back and shoulders softly when she cried again, both finally slipping into a deep sleep, hers tinged with emotional overload, his tinged with a combination of regret and bittersweet pleasure.

X-X-X-X


	32. Chapter 31

**A/N: Apologies for the late chapter… internet issues with moving and all that.  
>This is the final chapter of part II (and buckle in, 'cause it's a long one!) but there IS an epilogue still to come. Just so ya know.<strong>

**Chapter 31**

_The Hand_

She woke early the next morning and, after bidding farewell to a sleepy Vulcor, slipped noiselessly through the halls of the palace; first to her room for her flightsuit once more, and then to the hangar to make the trip she had attempted the day prior. As ever, Thrawn was waiting for her, even had someone standing by to direct her to the office just off the bridge that had been primarily utilized by Cem in the course of recent events.

"I'll accept." There was just enough of a flicker in Thrawn's eyes for Leyla to realize that he had honestly been unsure of what course of action she would choose. She garnered a strange sort of pride at doing anything unpredictable to the clone who saw everything. "But I have two conditions."

He settled back in his chair, even as she stood straight and tall, posture unforgiving as she prepared to make her demands. Fingers steepled in front of him, he considered her carefully before speaking. "As you are informing me of such, am I to guess correctly that both conditions are mine to fulfill?" She nodded tersely. "You wish me to disappear."

It was silent for a long moment as she struggled for the right words. "In essence… yes," she admitted. "From this part of the galaxy, anyway. You can't be interfering in affairs here and expect to continue to go unnoticed. The secret is already too open."

"This was not unexpected," he acknowledged. "Such as it is, I have no intentions of abandoning the Unknown Regions. There are yet threats which have gone too long unwatched, since the first collapse of the Hand."

She looked pained. "But you can't do _this_ again," she insisted. "No more scheming and manipulating leaders across the galaxy into doing what you want. No more slicing and hacking into highly-encrypted channels to get information. If there's a matter that requires the attention of the Alliance… get in touch with me. I have faith that you'll find some creative way of getting my attention," his lips quirked, "or have Cem talk to me but… no more espionage."

"Jedi Solo-Fel, where do you imagine I disappeared to in the week following your recovery over Csilla?" She shook her head; indeed, the question had been weighing on her mind ever since Cem told her he had disappeared in the first place. "I had a bargain with Master Karrde, made some eight years ago now at the death-bed of a mutual acquaintance… a friend… that he would administer the extensive information network compiled over decades of diligent work; and once the matter of Alpha Red was closed, it would be shut down for good. It is done."

"And Ghent?"

"Has no desire to continue violating the standards of his work, now that the necessity is gone. He will go back to his life of retirement." Leyla nodded, trying to find any measure of duplicity in the clone before her; there was none. "And your second term?"

She swallowed. This one had been difficult, but she was resolved. "You owe the truth- the full truth, the _real_ truth- to my father and grandfather. They know about Syndic Nabrin now but they don't really understand and… they should know why they were imprisoned for nine months. My-" her voice caught, "my father should know why he nearly lost everything, should know that his wife and unborn son nearly died as a result of his… _duty as a Fel_; his duty to _you_, who died when he was just a boy."

His expression was unreadable as he inclined his head once in simple acquiescence, but Leyla couldn't help but wonder if he saw how deeply her wounds ran after everything in the past couple of months, in the past couple of _weeks_. It was not enough that she had nearly sacrificed her life in the interests of putting an end to the crisis which had occupied Thrawn for nearly two decades. He wanted more from her, had known from the first that, in recruiting her, he'd be setting up the possibility of using her in what manner he deemed to be most beneficial to healing the galaxy.

She'd played right into his hands. He must have been delighted when she'd stepped up and taken Zekk's place on the mission to Coruscant.

As a Jedi, she had an obligation to do what was right. At the moment, she couldn't truly deny that it seemed right to take a place at the head of the Reconstruction Committee because the prospect of choosing another leader _did_ look bleak, with the inherent suspiciousness of the Chiss, the tension between Coruscant and Bastion. But she was only a realistic choice because it had been set up purposefully in such a way from the beginning. And if any of those important men who had agreed on her appointment knew that the long-dead Mitth'raw'nuruodo was behind it, had driven them to the decision without ever speaking a word to them himself…

It was a secret she'd have to keep for the rest of her life. A secret shared with Cem and Luke, soon with Soontir and Jag; and outside the family, with Zekk, Tahlia, and Vulcor. A small list of conspirators to help relieve her of a heavy weight that would likely plague her for some time.

She'd nearly sacrificed her life but this was something else, something wholly intangible she was sacrificing, something she'd already started to lose the instant she and Vulcor had been dragged out of hyperspace near Eriadu. It seemed like a lifetime ago. But Vulcor had better understood from the first, when he had warned her about the pain her disappearance would cause her family. On the surface, she'd understood that easily enough, for obvious reasons.

But now it was lashing back against her. She would never again share total candor with her family, would forever have secrets about these trying events. And there would always be that piece of her, the part that was agreeing to a request made by people who did not understand that it was never their choice, that their thoughts were manipulated every step of the way, that would be unknowable to them all.

Truth be told… she was already tired of it.

X-X-X-X

_Bastion_

Sitting down with her family came next- and that was the part she was most dreading. Her initial instinct was to put that off until after she spoke with the council again, but she owed them a little more openness than that.

It was just her parents and Navi though. Since Luke had pointed out that Mara already knew, there was little need to include the two of them, or Cem obviously; and Soontir and Syal had remained at Wyn and Syd's place and Leyla saw no real need to summon them back for the short and awkward meeting to follow.

Cem could tell the rest of his family everything later.

Vulcor had offered to come and sit with her through the difficult task of explaining without really explaining, but Leyla turned him down. The last thing she really felt like dealing with, on top of everything else, was seeing Jag and Kyp's eyes bug out of their skulls when they pieced together the fact that her relationship with the older Jedi had evolved into something far beyond the friendship that had started between them so long ago- even if that relationship would have to be put on hold for the foreseeable future.

And so she found herself sitting in the living area of Jag and Jaina's suite, biggest of the three since they had Naviin with them as well. She sat in an armchair across from the sofa on which Navi was sitting between his parents, his short legs dangling comically off the ground. Kyp sat in the other chair, angled to face her, one arm wrapped around Gennevi's waist as she perched on the arm of the chair, a frown playing across his face as he watched his quiet daughter try to focus herself.

With a reluctant sigh though, she raised her gaze to look at each of them in turn. Jaina looked concerned, and Navi even looked like he picked up on the seriousness of the mood, though Jag kept his face more impassive, betraying nothing of his expectations for what she had come here to say. Gennevi looked more curiously bemused than anything, in contrast to her husband's light consternation.

"So," she mumbled, hands twisting in her lap out of nerves, "if you didn't already know, matters are starting to wrap up here. Which is good, because it means that… you can all go home soon enough, after the craziness and chaos of the last several weeks. And," a steady flush began to creep up her neck and into her cheeks, "the craziness would have happened regardless, but I still need to apologize for adding to the trouble and giving you all something more to worry about. And…" her voice caught, "I know that I've not exactly made it easy in the past two weeks and I've hardly been… easy to get along with in that time."

Kyp offered her a lopsided smile. "Your craziness of the past several weeks was a hell of a lot more chaotic than ours," he allowed reasonably. "I think we can all understand the need for some… adjustment time."

In other words- you almost died, and we all know it, so be as grumpy as you like while we'll be just relieved that you aren't dead.

"Yeah," she grimaced, "well… adjustment time is about to end."

Jaina eyed her closely. "Sweetie, there's nothing wrong with taking a break; even Vulcor isn't returning to work right away once we all leave Bastion."

She closed her eyes wearily. "Mom, what I'm saying is that I can't take a break. This _was_ my break. Now I have more work to do but… it's not for Cem and the Hand, and it's not for the Jedi. And what's more is… in order to do it _right_…" she swallowed and met Kyp's green-eyed gaze reluctantly. "I'll be resigning from the Jedi order."

Gennevi's brows shot towards her hairline, and Naviin's forehead furrowed in confusion; the rest of them maintained a steady composure, despite how completely blindsiding that piece of news was to them all.

"It won't be forever," she continued quietly, "and I'm hoping it won't even be that long. But I can't claim full neutrality if I'm an active member of the order."

"I don't understand," Kyp said curiously, questioningly.

And with a deep breath, she told them what had transpired with the council the day prior. "I don't really have details," she pointed out, inwardly cringing against the wide-eyed surprise on her stepfather's face, "I talked alone with Uncle Luke for a long time last night but most of that was just speculation. But that's… in principle… the gist of it."

Her mother's tone was mildly skeptical, and not unreasonably so. "So what you're telling us, in essence, is that the Leadership Council has unanimously consented to put the future of the Galactic Alliance… in the hands of a twenty-year-old?"

"Not… exactly," she cringed. "They're putting the future of the Galactic Alliance in the hands of five representatives, one from the GA, one from the Jedi, one from the Ascendancy, one from the Empire, and one from the Hand. What they're putting in _my_ hands is the burden of making sure those five individuals make decisions that don't adversely affect one anothers' territory, and that benefit each entity as equally as possible, when applicable."

"But…" Gennevi frowned. "I'm not trying to offend by any means, but what do you know about… well… any of it?"

Jag shook his head and spoke softly. "That's probably half the appeal," he murmured. "They don't want somebody already established in the system because that being would have inherent prejudices towards whatever government they work for, be it the GA Senate, the Ascendancy Parliament… Leyla's most inherent prejudice is towards the Jedi and they don't have a government and a territory to favor."

She nodded reluctantly in agreement with his assessment. "That is, basically, what Uncle Luke said. And that by putting someone at the head of the committee who _isn't_ a legal scholar, who will have lots of questions, it puts the pressure on the committee members to be clear and concise in their proposals, and not weigh them down with circular double-speak as politicians tend to do."

Jaina grinned. "I'm telling your grandmother you said that."

Leyla felt a bit of tension ease from her chest, relieved that no one was mocking her or screaming at her over the ridiculousness of it all. "Anyway," she murmured, "I don't have a lot of time right now because I have to go tell all of _them_ that I'll do it…" she blinked unsurely. "Unless any of you have a really good reason to offer that I shouldn't because…" glancing down, she muttered, "I can't think of one."

"And you've been trying to," Kyp gathered easily enough from her words. She shrugged, pink in the face. After a few seconds of silence, he relinquished his hold around Gennevi's waist and stood, coming to crouch beside Leyla's chair, seeking out her downturned eyes carefully and drawing her gaze back upwards, smiling gently. "Hey- stop acting like you ought to be ashamed about something. It's a lot to ask, and maybe you want no part of it at all, but that doesn't lessen all that you've accomplished in so short a time. You're an extraordinary girl, Leyla- extraordinary _young woman_," he amended wryly, if a bit reluctantly. "And I'm routinely prouder than you could ever imagine to be your father and your Master- even if you _are_ throwing away all that valuable training to run along and play politics for a few years."

He winked at her and she finally cracked a rueful smile before he pulled her into a warm embrace.

X-X-X-X

She sat with her eyes closed, feeling the presences approaching the room before they actually entered, sensing the chairs around her filling without actually seeing them sitting down, knew where every single member of the meeting was placed without once opening her eyes to verify her senses. And so when she did open her eyes, she already knew that Wynn Dorvan was on her left with Ferrin Belotab on his other side, her great-uncle Luke on her right; across the table, Cem was directly opposite her, with the Aristocra on his left and Vitor Reige on his right.

Today, it would be just the seven of them again- five leaders, Dorvan to take minutes, and her. And the rest of them, these important figures, family or not, were waiting for _her_ to speak. She took a deep breath, and when she started to talk, her voice was quiet but commanding.

"This is… a heavy weight you've all dropped on me like this," she met each of their eyes in turn. "And what's more, you haven't allotted me a lot of time to consider what I still believe to be a wild and somewhat ludicrous prosposal."

"In all fairness," Belotab murmured by her side, "most of us here were far more blindsided by events which you and Captain Fel have been on top of for weeks."

Nodding, she attempted a light smile. "And I _do_ recognize that fact. So what I'm here to tell you today is that I'll accept- but I have a few conditions on which I will need some assurances before I do so officially."

"Understandable," the Chief of State acknowledged. "So long as you understand that we may not be _able_ to answer all of your questions yet. This entire process is still almost as theoretical to the six of us as it is to you."

Leyla drew a heavy breath. "Theoretical or not, I need to know just what you're envisioning for the lifespan of this Reconstruction Committee; whether you anticipate a concise set of goals for _one_ body, to be accomplished over a set duration of time, or whether this is going to be the foundation for an ongoing entity within the Galactic Alliance."

"We are interested in a body that will- over the course of as long as it takes- identify, analyze, and rectify weaknesses in the structure and charter of the Galactic Alliance," Reige stated simply. "A few years' work, to be sure, but not an unreasonable a restructured body with a similar focus was deemed to be necessary beyond that point… that would be a matter for the committee to decide in its later stages."

That was, she supposed, as good as she was going to get on that matter. "Alright- then the matter of who the committee would be responsible towards. This is, unfortunately, tied very closely into the matter of how such a committee will be funded." A wry smile from Luke acknowledged the similar debate that had, at times, arisen among the Jedi. "The purpose of this whole project will be quickly defeated if the committee feels obligated to defer to Coruscant on everything."

"What do you propose?" the Aristocra asked evenly, eyes bright and piercing.

She held her hands up defensively. "I know nothing about money matters and, luckily for me, that happy problem is not for me to worry about. But there needs to be some semblance of neutrality in location, be it a home-base location on a world with no particular ties to Coruscant, Bastion, or Csilla, _or_ a rotating headquarters on each of those worlds, possibly on Ossus and… well…" she frowned at Cem. "Wherever you set up an operating base now…"

"We already have teams examining the old fortress at Nirauan," he supplied quietly. Leyla wondered just how much of the Empire of the Hand would ever be openly known to the rest of the galaxy, wondered whether anyone besides Cem and Thrawn, and a few key commanders, would ever understand just how extensive the resources of that empire were. For her part, Leyla was quite confident that she had not the slightest clue.

Perhaps that was an issue that would come to her attention in her new appointment.

"Well in any case," she continued, "it may be for nominal appearances' sake more than anything- I'm a Jedi Knight, I've been one for two years, and I was always _going_ to be one- but I'll be resigning formally from the Jedi order." No one spoke and she shrugged. "I'm also willing to relinquish my lightsaber to my former Master, if that were deemed… proper."

Looks were exchanged across the table. "Luke?" Belotab queried.

The Jedi Master shrugged easily. "Tenel Ka was forced to resign from the order when she became Queen Mother of Hapes; she still carries her blade."

"Moving on then," Leyla nodded gratefully to her uncle, "If I'm to have veto power over majority votes, then unanimity overrides me."

Reige and Belotab exchanged a discreet look that Leyla almost missed. A sort of bemused smile touched the corners of the Aristocra's lips, and Cem caught her eyes and nodded approvingly. "I think we all understand one another very well, Leyla." She blinked around at them unsurely. "Is there anything else?"

"I…" she hesitated. This was, by far, the most selfish of her conditions, but as Vulcor said- they needed her right now far more than she needed them. "I want at least a week. I've spent the last two weeks trying to figure out why you wanted me to stick around here, and now I want a week to leave, spend time with my family, see my little brother back to Ossus…"

"Actually," Reige murmured, "I think we can give you more than that." Her brows rose in pleasant surprise. "There will be a Reunification Summit on Coruscant in four weeks, maybe six. A formal procedure to welcome the Ascendancy, the Empire, and any of the seceded systems back into the Alliance- and, of course, the Hand will be formally initiated."

"And by then," Belotab added, "we'll have had time to work out the fine details of the committee, like funding and location… not to mention who is to sit on it."

Adr'igi'sabosen leaned forward slightly in his chair and peered at her. "Do you have any further concerns, Jedi Solo-Fel? Though," he added after a moment of consideration, "it seems we are unable to call you that anymore."

Smiling weakly, she shook her head. "Those were the big points."

"Very well," Reige spoke with an air of finality. "Do you expect to depart immediately?"

"Not right away; tomorrow, perhaps the day after."

"Then we will speak again, I think. Regardless, I trust Master Skywalker will have means of contacting you, when you do leave?" She nodded; she certainly had no intentions of disappearing, and fully expected to spend the entirety of her time away on either Coruscant or Ossus. "If there is nothing else, feel free to go. And… we all extend our gratitude, Jedi Solo-Fel."

X-X-X-x

It was a twenty minute ride by speeder from the Imperial Palace to the long-abandoned apartment where Cem Fel had resided during those rare times when he was not attached to a carrier ship, or when he had a furlough away from his duty station. Cem himself had only been back to it once in the two weeks since he reappared on the galactic radar, but it was more or less how he left it, despite the Imperial and Alliance investigatory personnel who had sought clues upon his disappearance.

Soontir had also been to the small but functional apartment when discreetly searching for any hint as to his shadow son's whereabouts, and he navigated the route with practiced ease, skill with any and all flying craft not compromised by his significantly advanced age. In the passenger seat, his younger son sat quietly, face impassive as he watched the lights of the passing traffic whir by in the fading light of the city of Ravelin.

"Jagged?" He half-turned his head and gave his father a questioning look, but did not speak. "Is all well with you?"

Jag worked his jaw a moment, betraying the tension he felt. "I just wonder what Cem could possibly want that can't be discussed back at the palace."

"Are you still angry with your brother?"

His heavy sigh was followed by a lengthy silence while he resumed staring out the viewport and brooding. "I don't know, father. I guess not. Jaina is; she was the one who was most worried about Leyla from the start, and then come to find out that it wasn't some rebellious whim, but her own uncle pulling her into a maelstrom of a conflict that nearly killed her… I can hardly fault her feelings."

"If you are not angry, what troubles you?"

"None of it makes any sense," Jag answered bluntly. "None of it. And with Nabrin dead, I don't suppose we'll ever get answers, but I still don't understand what happened nine years ago. Leyla and Cem know more than they're letting on, Zekk and Tahlia might too, but none of them are saying anything. But what's more…" he sighed heavily as Soontir guided the speeder into an empty berth on the landing pad on the roof of the building. "Why Leyla?"

His father spared him a sidelong glance as he secured the craft that was borrowed from the palace. "What do you mean? Why have they singled her out now?"

"Why did Cem single her out weeks ago?" Jag corrected. The two headed side-by-side towards the far side of the roof where a turbolift would take them down several levels to Cem's apartment. "Does the whole thing not seem awfully… contrived to you?"

Soontir pondered that in solemn silence as they stepped into the lift car. "You think she was chosen to set up _this_ possibility?" he asked softly. "Cem could never have foreseen what would happen between her and the Ascendancy though, Jagged. And implying that he _did_ is also to imply that he knowingly endangered Leyla's life."

"He endangered her life the moment he contacted her," Jag argued. "But beyond that, it's almost as though he… wanted to give Leyla the chance to prove herself, wanted to put her in a position that just might give the Ascendancy pause, might make them reconsider her merit based on actions and not blood. Even if those actions might not have as direct an impact on the Ascendancy as they ultimately did. "

Father and son exited the turbolift and traversed a covered walkway to the next building in the complex. Foot traffic was minimal, and no one they passed paid them any mind as it was, but Soontir still felt an odd uneasiness that was partially due to his son's troubling speculations, and partially due to the insistence that this meeting among the Fel men be held _here_, when they could all as easily converse back at the palace.

Cem answered the door quickly after they arrived at his suite and ushered his father and younger brother inside.

They were standing in a bare living space, free of decorations, with little more than some infrequently-used furniture, a comm station, and a holoscreen in one corner. To the left, a door opened to what Soontir recalled was the kitchen and dining area, also small and relatively unused; to the right, a bedroom and refresher; and straight back from the door to the hallway, a sliding transparisteel door opened onto a small balcony that looked down on criss-crossing walkways that connected various buildings of the complex that generally catered towards military personnel who were, for the most part, frequently stationed elsewhere.

"Father, Jagged- thank you for coming," Cem looked them up and down- indeed, they had really had very little opportunity to speak during their two-week stay in the palace.

Soontir glanced around, and then eyed his son curiously as he just stood in the center of the room. "Should we sit, Cem?"

"No, not yet," he sighed and ran a hand through short hair, and it struck both Soontir and Jag how different Cem looked now, out of his stiff uniform. He should have been relaxed, away from the palace, back in his own place, but… there was an underlying strain that prevented it. "I need to explain a couple of things to you both.

"First- and I'm sorry to say it- but for a number of reasons, this whole arrangement was against my better judgment but… once Leyla makes up her mind about something…"

"Leyla?" Jag asked sharply. "What has she got to do with this? What _is_ this?"

Cem held up a hand, closing his eyes wearily. "This, Jagged, is part of a condition set by Leyla. In order for her to accept the Council's request, she insisted that the two of you hear the full truth. And, while I do not question that it is the right thing, to tell you… I wonder if it is the _best_ thing."

Soontir shook his head slowly back and forth. "The truth about what, Cem?"

He shrugged his shoulders in a helpless gesture. "Everything. Alpha Red; Nabrin; the Hand; Leyla." Their father exchanged a look with his younger son. "Because," Cem murmured quietly, "I know that neither of you buy the idea that Nabrin was part of the Hand ten years ago… and I know that _both_ of you have been wondering for two weeks why Nabrin would have kept you alive, why he would have even bothered to involve himself in the whole mess, if it compromised the work he was doing with Alpha Red.

"The answer to that is simple enough- Nabrin acted on behalf of another's orders."

"Who?" Soontir asked softly.

Cem gave a sort of dry half-smile. "That is, unfortunately, where simplicity ends. Regardless, Leyla is resolved that you both understand the sacrifices you've made, that she's made… and that you understand on whose behalf they were made."

Hesitating only a moment, he turned and led the way into the small kitchenette area. On the far side from the door, a small round table with four chairs sat with two occupants already in place, and Jag started in surprise to see Leyla sitting there, her eyes locked on his in a sort of sorrowful plea that he couldn't understand.

Soontir's attention, however, was drawn immediately to the other figure, and he stopped short as he took in the features, those glowing eyes. And it wasn't until the chiss stood, nodded once towards Soontir and murmured, "Baron Fel- it has indeed been a long time," that Jag even spared him a glance.

They locked gazes for close to a minute, red eyes against brown, before Soontir breathed incredulously, "A clone?"

Leyla stood and looked between her father and grandfather twice, eyes full of trepidation. "Dad, grandpa- _Crahsystor_ Thrawn." Soontir's eyes never left the chiss, but Jag's bounced back and forth a few times, trying to comprehend what she was saying, a look of stunned realization slowly creeping onto his features, features that so rarely betrayed his true emotions. Before he could open his mouth though, Leyla walked from the room, muttering as she went, "I'll be on the balcony."

X-X

Much to Leyla's surprise, as she stood leaning against the railing and staring across the way at the next building but seeing nothing, it was only ten minutes before she sensed a presence approaching, heard the soft hiss of the transparisteel doors sliding apart. Unable to bring herself to turn, afraid of what she might see in his eyes, she stiffened as an arm went around her shoulders and drew her close against her father's side.

"Are you done already?" she mumbled, her cheek pressed against the fabric of his tunic.

"I've heard enough."

Finally tilting her head, she was at least relieved to see the gentle smile as he peered down at her, mild concern in his eyes. "Was it… did I do the right thing?" she whispered. "Would it have been better if you just… never knew? Was the confusion better than the burden of the secret?"

"No, sweetheart," he turned and wrapped his other arm around her, hugging her tightly. "If only so that you have someone else to confide in, if you ever need it… I'm glad for it. And I'm glad to be able to better understand what you must have been going through, these past weeks."

She choked a laugh. "I've been so terrified, wondering what he would do, knowing he must have been planning _something_ to bring it all together. I never dreamed that something would be… well… me." A few tears slipped past her lashes but she kept herself under control. "Mom can never know," she whispered. "Not mom or Kyp, or mom's parents…"

"I know, Leyla."

"They wouldn't understand. He'll never be more than a villain to them."

That gave Jag pause, and he pulled slightly away from her and looked down at her tear-streaked face. "What is he to you?" he asked curiously.

"Impossible," she admitted, and he chuckled lowly despite her tears. "He's brilliant but infuriating. I respect him and, at the same time, loathe him with the deepest passion. It's really quite anomalous."

"I guess that's the Solo side battling with the Fel side," he teased lightly, but Leyla didn't smile. In truth, she'd thought the same thing with deadly seriousness before. Because in this matter, she was neither, did not hold the chiss in the high esteem of her stepfather's family, but did not look on him as quite the villain he was to Han and Leia Solo.

The two heritages that tied her to the Alliance and the Jedi, to the Empire, the Hand and the Ascendancy left her torn completely down the middle in regards to the being who had orchestrated it all. A sort of poetic justice there, she supposed.

"Come on," Jag steered her gently away from the balcony. "Let's go back. I think we're done here."

When they reentered the living room of the small apartment, she glanced towards the door behind which Cem, Thrawn, and Soontir were still sitting and talking. "What about grandpa?"

"Trust me," her father drawled ruefully, "they'll be talking for hours. Cem will see him back later."

The ride back to the palace was mostly quiet, and what little discussion they did have was generally regarding returning to Ossus, or Kyp and Gennevi's plans to return to Coruscant. Which, as they were arriving and strolling through the elegant corridors of the Imperial Palace, jolted Leyla's memory about something else.

"Say- what was it that Kyp and Gennevi were talking to Admiral Darklighter about, right after we all arrived?"

"You know," Jag frowned lightly down at her, "I have no idea. I'd entirely forgotten about that, in light of recent events. They have been awfully reclusive though, haven't they?"

"I guess," Leyla shrugged. Kyp and Gennevi had given her as much space as she wanted, which worked perfectly as far as she was concerned. She dropped by whenever she liked, and they shared a meal together a lot of days, but now that she thought about it… they really had been keeping to themselves.

"Maybe Darklighter wants her back in the Fleet," Jag offered, only half-joking. The Defense Force was, if possible, even more of a mess now than it had been immediately following the resignations of Bwua'tu and Kre'fey. It was yet to be seen whether the two bothan commanders would be permitted to reclaim their admiralships and, with Niathal dead, Darklighter and Klauskin were doing the heavy lifting.

Leyla grinned up at him. "Maybe _you_ should go back in the military."

His expression was skeptical. "Maybe in another couple of years when your brother is ready to be on his own at the academy." They reached the corridor where they would part ways to return to their respective accomodations. "You want to come by for a little while?"

She felt guilty turning him down- but there was one person she was going to see far less of, once they left Bastion and she accompanied her parents and Navi to Ossus. And so it was that, upon going her separate ways with Jag, she dropped by her room for only a few minutes to collect a couple of overnight essentials, and then worked her way back down to the lower level of the palace where Vulcor's room was located.

They enjoyed a relatively simple night, curled up on the sofa with the HoloNet News on but hardly paying attention to it as they talked quietly about all manner of topics pertaining to the foreseeable future- and beyond. When Vulcor started musing about his leave-of-absence though, it reminded Leyla of yet another thing she'd nearly forgotten, and she asked him for a favor.

He stared at her. "Senex?" he repeated with a trace of distaste in his voice. "You want me to take over your mission in Senex?"

"You could delegate it," she allowed reasonably. "And a lot of it will be more about liaising with the military regarding patrolling the routes Ta'yen noted for me- and I'm sure Darklighter would be more than happy to help you, once he has time look beyond the current crisis, let alone eat and sleep."

"But…" he smiled weakly. "It's… Senex."

"And you're familiar with it." He couldn't argue there, as much as he might wish he were not familiar with it in the slightest. "Besides- Ta'yen likes you. He told me to tell you 'hi' for him."

"Did he now?"

She smacked his arm lightly. "Oh, stop. You know very well that there was nothing personal between us."

"Yeah, but you're cute when you get riled up."

That, of course, riled her further, until he subdued her through a combination of tickling and kissing, and finally just picked her right off the sofa and dropped her lightly on the bed in the other room, where they spent a cozy night curled up together, not allowing themselves to worry about what the next day had to bring, or the day after that.

X-X-X-X

The next day, as it turned out, brought a visitor to Vulcor's suite at an unnecessarily early hour; though, as he jolted awake at the sound of the buzzing alert and checked the time, it may have simply been that they had stayed awake too late and consequently slept in a bit later than normal. Nevertheless, he was mildly grumpy and still quite sleepy as he pressed a kiss against Leyla's temple and slid carefully from the bed.

He went to the door in the tee and sweatpants in which he had slept, all-too-aware of his generally unkempt state and mussed hair as he pressed the door-release panel- and then felt the blood drain quickly from his face as he knew he was about to die a slow and painful death.

"Ah- hi- good morning,si- Jag."

"Sir?" Jag cocked a brow. "Vulcor, you haven't called me 'sir' in about a decade."

He attempted a winning smile. "It's early." It fell flat.

"Uh-huh," Jag nodded slowly. "Well early though it may be, Gennevi is looking for Leyla." Vulcor blinked; Jag sighed. "So, if you wouldn't mind… rousing her and sending her off to their suite…" Vulcor blinked again, and Jag rubbed his eyes and shook his head. "Vulcor, how stupid do you think we all are?"

"I- not at all!"

"Right- well with Leyla's comlink switched off and no response coming from her room, I tapped into that substantial source of 'not stupid' and deducted that she was probably here. And you know what? I'm not even going to ask if I'm right. I'm just going to walk away, and ask you to let her know- if you, you know, talk to her, see her any time soon- that Gennevi wants to see her and that it's important. Got it?"

"Got it," he repeated back dazedly.

Jag didn't look wholly convinced, but nodded and turned away. Vulcor was just about to close the door again when the older man stopped, returned a few steps, and eyed him shrewdly. "Jag?"

"Do you love her?"

He swallowed thickly but answered without pause. "Very much so, yes."

"Hm," Jag sized him up and down a moment, shrugged a bit resignedly, and turned away again, calling over his shoulder, "Hurt her and I'll kill you."

"Yes, sir."

X-X-X-X

Tapping once on the door, Leyla slipped inside the living space of the small apartment that had been offered to Kyp and Gennevi for the duration of their stay on Bastion. She supposed that, as long as this was a time for letting go of old grudges, it was as good a time as any for the Empire to make some peace with Kyp and at least be cordial and tolerant of his presence. Besides, after practically forbidding her from leaving, it was the least Reige could do to ensure that her family was suitably quartered in the palace as well.

It was not Kyp- nor Gennevi- who she first saw waiting inside the suite, however. A tall woman with black hair was rising from the sofa across the room. She wasn't as tall as Gennevi but had a few centimeters on Leyla easily. Her dark hair was cut short, framing a smiling face; only the streaks of silver in her hair gave away her age as far greater than she would have suspected otherwise.

"I, uh…" Leyla frowned lightly.

"You're in the right place," the woman assured her in a thinly accented Basic. "I'm sorry to startle you, your father was held up somewhere and your stepmother went to retrieve him." She nodded but didn't really understand what was happening. "I'm sorry," the woman smiled and held out her hand, "My name is Sera. Sera Faleur Darklighter."

"Oh," she started. "Are you…?"

"Gavin's wife, yes."

They lapsed into a brief and awkward silence. "Is, ah… everything alright? The admiral…?"

"Just fine," she assured her, sitting back down; Leyla took up a chair opposite her. "I'm here on wholly unrelated business, if you can believe that."

"Can I ask what you're seeing Kyp and Gennevi for?"

The woman bit her lip and looked indecisive a moment before she sighed and let out a soft laugh. "Maybe I should explain part of it while we wait. Ley… can I call you Leyla?" She nodded. "Leyla, I spent several years as a social worker on Coruscant, a long time ago now. I met my husband in that capacity when he adopted our two oldest sons; I handled his case and… well," she smiled faintly, "things just sort of clicked from there."

Leyla smiled politely but really did not see the relevance of the story, nor what it had to do with her father and stepmother.

"Even after I stopped working on Coruscant, I continued assisting where I could with a more widespread agency that deals with interplanetary adoptions, connecting with families who were looking to adopt across species lines, that sort of thing. Sometimes, even all these years later, they'll still get in touch with me for suggestions about a particularly tricky case… one of which popped up a few weeks ago. A bothan child, an infant who… is a survivor of Torolis."

Confusion over the visit aside, Leyla quickly frowned. "A bothan?" she repeated unsurely. "How is that even possible?"

"Honestly," Sera smiled, "there's no other way to describe it than a miracle. A horribly tragic story of course- he's the last of his clan. But young Tylas… he was born premature, the doctors apparently didn't even think he would make it. In an effort to help his development along though, he was placed in a specially contained oxygen-crèche, to help bolster his respiratory system and to keep him safe from any number of common infections that could have killed him easily."

Leyla closed her eyes a moment and felt a wave of utterly irrational guilt wash through her. She had nothing to do with Torolis, didn't even know until more than a week later that it hadn't been a freak accident, but nevertheless… "And he was in there when the Alpha Red pathogen was released," she surmised.

Sera nodded somberly. "Everyone around him died and the poor thing was left alone, in a small birthing clinic, no Emdee droids even to care for him. It was nearly a week before a crew made it to their little community and went inside that building and, by all rights, Tylas should have been long dead from sheer neglect but somehow… he held on. Then, of course, his survival was even _more_ questionable but… it's been about six weeks now and he's made amazing progress." She paused. "The truly remarkable fact of it is though… had he not been born early, he'd have never had even the possibility to live."

"That is an astounding bit of fortune… in a manner of speaking."

"Well," Sera sighed, "it might be a little more than that. Whether or not it could have had anything to do with it, some blood work run by the special care team that took him suggests that he's… Force-sensitive."

"Oh?"

Sera nodded. "Yes; which is actually where I came to be involved in Tylas's case. I don't know how much you know about bothan culture, the outlook on adoption and clan-lines, but… oftentimes, an orphaned youngling separated from his or her clan never has a chance at the sort of life they should have. And Gavin knows someone who works to try to get such children adopted outside of Bothan Space- at the very least, off of Bothawui, where prejudices are at their worst. With Tylas though, not only would his chances at a good life be lessened, but many bothans are opposed to their younglings pursuing paths with the Jedi, feel that they cannot properly serve the bothan people if they've sworn themselves to the Force. And Gavin's acquaintance wants to make sure that Tylas's options are open, should he want to pursue such a path when he is of an age to do so- especially since he truly has no more ties among his own species."

Now this was starting to make sense to Leyla. "So you talked to Admiral Darklighter and he had Gennevi put you in touch with Kyp so he can put it to the Jedi Council?" she guessed, remembering Cem telling her about the plans he'd made with Zekk and Tahlia for Olyxes's future, should his parents meet an untimely end in their service to the Hand.

A throat cleared behind her. "Not… exactly." She turned in surprise and saw her father standing there looking almost… guilty. And beside him was Gennevi holding a bundle of yellow blanket cradled in one arm.

It wasn't until she shifted her weight and the bundle in her arms started moving that Leyla realized it was alive. Her eyes widened, and then darted quickly from Kyp to Gennevi to Sera and back around again. "Is… is that Tylas?"

Kyp nodded slowly and came into the room, Gennevi right behind him. He shook hands with Sera and muttered a quick greeting, but turned immediately again to face Leyla. She, however, couldn't quite pry her eyes away from the infant youngling who was being held by Gennevi. As her stepmother came closer, she could see sharp violet eyes which shone brightly above a coppery snout, and a single ear had freed itself from the blanket wrapped around him; young Tylas clearly had not yet quite grown into his ears, because it stuck straight out and was disproportionately large compared to how tiny the little bothan was.

Biting her lip, Gennevi settled down in the second chair in the room, leaving Kyp to sit beside Sera on the sofa. She sighed. "I know this is very… abrupt," she looked anxiously at her stepdaughter. "And we've only had two weeks to talk it over ourselves, and it was just one more thing to burden you with… but we can't put off the conversation any longer."

Leyla blinked a few times, slowly, stupidly. "Huh?"

Despite himself, Kyp chuckled a little. "Sweetie, when Mrs. Dark…" he glanced over as Sera rolled her eyes. "When _Sera_," he amended wryly, "contacted the admiral, he thought he'd take a chance and run the idea by me and Gennevi of… adopting him ourselves. And we've been thinking and talking about it these past two weeks but, in the end… we can't decide something like this without your input."

She blinked again. "Why?" she blurted.

Gennevi looked mildly taken aback. "I know it's very sudden… I mean, we just got married a few months ago… but I'm getting a little old to be-"

"No," Leyla finally smiled and cut her off gently. "I mean, why do you need my input? If you two want to start a family together, it seems to me that it's a conversation between the two of you and no one else."

"You're my little girl," Kyp murmured softly. "Even if you're twenty years old. And maybe you won't be around Coruscant all that much in the near future but whatever we decide… any family Gennevi and I have will always be your family too." But he actually looked a little uncertain as he said it and Leyla felt tears welling in her eyes for a reason she couldn't quite explain, even to herself. "You know that, right?"

Blinking quickly to clear her eyes, she jerked her head in a rough acknowledgement, but her throat continued to tighten and her eyes continued to burn as the first tears escaped and slid down her cheeks. In her vague awareness of her surroundings, she realized that Sera was looking suddenly unsure and uncomfortable, but before she could stand and excuse herself, Leyla jumped to her feet. "I'm sorry, I just need to…" she was out the door before she could even finish formulating an explanation for her neurotic behavior.

The corridor was blissfully empty as she strode practically blindly down several doors to the corner where a large viewport overlooked an inner courtyard of the palace complex. She stood there, pressing her hands against her eyes, willing the Force to help her calm down but it just wasn't working. Maybe it wasn't working because she needed this, she idly considered as her father touched her shoulder gently and she turned and buried her face against his robes as she let out muffled sobs.

Kyp seemed somewhat perplexed, but he hugged her tightly for a long time while she let out the pain and guilt that had lashed at her with a vengeance, sitting in there with Kyp and Gennevi, both so openly earnest for her understanding…

"I…" she hiccoughed and wiped at her face. "I've treated you so awfully. All of you."

"Oh, sweetheart…" he sighed and pulled her to him again. "You haven't. You did what you had to do, just like Cem, and Zekk and Tahlia, and Vulcor. And we all understand, even Navi. And we all understand that you still have work to do- to make sure it wasn't all for nothing."

For a long minute, she just let herself relax as Kyp rubbed her back soothingly. "I shouldn't have sprung this on you like this," he murmured. "Not after everything else."

She let out a choking laugh and wiped the last moisture from her cheeks. "No," she sighed, "it's… I need to know that _something_ good has come out of all of this. But…" she glanced down at the intricately designed tile floor, "dad, are you sure that this is what _you_ want?"

That guilty look flashed over his features again. "You want to know something?" he asked ruefully. "No, I'm not sure. I don't think I ever will be… or _could_ be. But I think that's part of being a parent, or even of _thinking_ about being a parent. It's a risky business, kids- and I'm prouder of you than you'll ever know. But…" he gave her a half-smile, "we talked about the whole 'kids' thing on our honeymoon… talked about it even before we got married, actually. Because it just wasn't something Gennevi ever counted on doing, and with you already in the picture on my end, she wasn't sure how _I'd_ feel. But we sort of came to the same conclusion."

"What's that?" she asked quietly.

"That honestly, we're just getting too old," he told her drily. "Gennevi is forty-five; a full fifteen years older than your mother was when she had Navi. That's quite a difference."

"Aunt Mara had Ben when she was in her forties," Leyla pointed out.

Kyp grinned. "Yeah, apparently she and Leia were quick to point that out when we got married. But Mara is also a Jedi, don't forget, and… maybe that doesn't make a huge difference, but it probably makes a bit of one." He sighed. "The conclusion we reached was that, maybe if we'd met ten, even five years earlier… but we didn't and I'm not complaining about it; a lot of important stuff happened in those ten years- Jag disappearing and Navi being born, and your apprenticeship…

"But maybe this is the Force sort of prodding us in a different direction. Does that make sense?"

"You don't have to justify anything to me, daddy. I think it's a wonderful idea- if you think you're ready for it."

He patted her shoulder. "Want to go sit and talk about it?"

When they walked back into the room, the two older women were sitting side-by-side on the sofa, Sera helping Gennevi situate the young child to feed him from a bottle. They both looked questioningly up at Leyla and Kyp, though Sera tried to keep her curiosity off of her face, even as Leyla forced a reassuring smile and knelt down beside Gennevi and peered wide-eyed at the youngling balanced in the crook of her arm.

Sera spoke softly. "He's still under medical care for a couple of weeks. One of the agency medical assistants met me here, and Tylas is due back for bi-hourly checkups; and he still spends his nights under constant supervision of an Emdee droid. But if he continues to show strong signs of recovery, doesn't relapse… he'll be moved into temporary foster care until a permanent adoption is arranged."

Leyla reached out a tentative hand and touched it to the top of his little copper-furred head; the little bothan's violet eyes fixed on her, even as he continued to drink greedily from the bottle Gennevi held for him. "I think," she murmured, as she reached down and took his grasping, tiny hand in hers, saw his fur ripple in response, felt an untrained mind reacting to her touch in the Force, "that I could quite get used to the idea of another little brother."

X-X-X-X

The Imperial Palace had only been her home for a couple of weeks, less time even than she spent living on the unnamed planetoid in the depths of Wild Space. Nevertheless, she felt strange as she walked through the decorative corridors for what would be the last time. After her last meeting with the Leadership Council, she was to meet her family in the main hangar; they would all return to Coruscant first, the Fels, the Durrons, and Mara, in the _Jade Shadow_, her aunt's yacht in which she and Luke had escorted Ferrin Belotab and Wynn Dorvan to Bastion for talks. Luke would follow in another two days with the two politicians by diplomatic transport. Zekk and Tahlia were also returning with Olyxes to Coruscant to have both a break and a lengthy discussion with the Masters' Council regarding their work with the chiss Jedi, who were relocating to Nirauan.

Leyla was dressed simply but professionally. Her uncle had been officially informed of her resignation from the Jedi order the afternoon prior, following a lively get-together in which the Fels and Skywalkers had been introduced to Sera Darklighter and little Tylas. It was not a certainty that he would be adopted by Kyp and Gennevi- assorted applications had to be submitted and approved- but Sera confessed that she saw little reason they should be turned down, assuming they received a full blessing and recommendation from Luke and the Masters' Council.

Despite his awed excitement at the possibility of adopting the boy, Leyla hadn't been oblivious to the nervousness in her father's aura and demeanor, nervousness that she knew extended beyond the simple terror that any person must feel when faced with the prospect of soon becoming a parent. His nervousness ran deeper, was deeply seated in long-lasting guilt, guilt he had never fully overcome in the twenty-one years since he had slipped down a dark path for the second time in his young life. And she understood it, understood why he, of all people, would have reservations about parenthood… after the circumstances under which he had first become a father. She understood it, wanted nothing more than to reassure him- but that was not a role he needed _her_ to play.

Leyla had never asked what events had transpired between her mother and Kyp to cause the rift in their bond. Since she had awoken, their relationship had been distant but not hostile by any means, and she didn't want to pry. Jaina sensed Kyp's inner turmoil though and, after a dinner together- a dinner during which not a single one of them questioned Vulcor's presence, making Leyla wonder just how long they had realized that Vulcor had stayed on Bastion for _her_- she seemed to make up her mind and set her resolve. With a quick murmured word to Gennevi, Jaina beckoned Kyp from the room and the two disappeared for more than an hour while Leyla, Vulcor, Jag, Gennevi, and Naviin sat around the Fels' common room, discussing a little of everything.

And when they returned, there seemed to be a measure of reconciliation between them, a bit of that link reforged, though an emotional weariness radiated from her mother in the Force, as much as she tried to hold it back. It was getting late by then though and Kyp and Gennevi left soon after, and it wasn't long beyond that when Jag sent Naviin off to get ready for bed.

As for she and Vulcor- they spent a last night content with each other's company, making no promises beyond that they would see one another at least one more time in the month before the Reunification Summit on Coruscant. Otherwise, too much was simply uncertain in both of their immediate futures.

And that was, of course, the fault of the council with whom she was going to have one last brief meeting; because Leyla had one more request to make of them.

It was a strange request, something she'd first contemplated as a bit of a joke, following Jag's teasing comment about the battle between her Solo and Fel sides. But the more she thought about it, the more the idea appealed, and the appeal had only grown that much stronger after meeting with Kyp, Gennevi, and Sera Darklighter, after seeing her father battle inwardly all night about the prospect of being a father again, of raising a child in a way he had never raised Leyla, _could_ never raise her.

And it was with a sense of resolve that she steeled herself before them- two of them her relatives, the GA Chief of State and his chief-of-staff, the Imperial Head of State, the representative of the Ruling Families of the Chiss Ascendancy. Self-conscious of her youth, her unfamiliar and out-of-place attire, her wholly unimportant standing among them, she nevertheless met their eyes in turn as they all looked at her in confused surprise for a long minute.

Reige finally broke the silence. "Come again?"

"I want," she repeated carefully, "to change my name. And I plan to, once I reach Coruscant… unless you offer some convincing objection."

The admiral shook his head, perplexed. "To _what_?"

She gave him a lopsided smile. "To Durron of course, Admiral; what else _would_ I change it to?"

Cem was frowning thoughtfully at her. "Can I ask why?"

He could ask; in fact, he was probably among very few who would truly understand some of her reasons, but not all of those reasons were for public consumption. She shrugged though, and eyed him blandly. "Some reasons are personal. Mostly though… I want to know that I'm more than a name, that you've thrust me in a position I never wanted for more than just the fact that the names 'Solo' and 'Fel' are a convenient marriage of the Empire, the Ascendancy, the Hand, the Jedi, and the former New Republic.

"And besides… Leyla Solo-Fel is a Jedi Knight. I suspect she always will be. But you've asked me to become someone else, someone I was unknowingly turning into the moment I began to work with Cem to bring an end to the conspiracy that threatened to tear the galaxy apart- and nearly succeeded. A person who must reluctantly accept losses on a tragic scale, a person who…" her voice stuck a moment, but she caught herself and continued softly, earnestly. "A person who does whatever it takes to prevent further such losses."

Her eyes locked on to Cem and she could read the guilty understanding in his eyes, could tell that he knew what she was saying though she could not speak it aloud. The events of the past six, seven weeks and the consequences there entailed- consequences that culminated with her appointment as head of the yet-unformed Reconstruction Committee- would forever be tied inexorably to Thrawn.

And in the matter of Thrawn, she was simply neither Solo nor Fel, could not demonize nor idolize the clone. To try to be _both_ merely left her feeling torn in two.

But just as Kyp Durron had been willing to deceive the galaxy to find her when she was a little girl, so too was Leyla Durron willing to deceive everyone she loved for the greater good… was willing to betray her firm beliefs in light versus dark in order to stop a sociopath from murdering a planetful of chiss.

Given the chance, she would not do any differently under the circumstances; just as she knew Kyp would never question the methods he used to locate her thirteen years ago. But the girl who refused to provide her family explanations, even as she secretly contemplated the potential doom of the galaxy… the girl who delved into the mind of another with the intention of confusing, _controlling_… it was not the same girl who had been picked up by an interdictor near Eriadu, who had fought with Vulcor about her mission in Senex, in what seemed a lifetime ago.

Simply put, she had become what Thrawn made her, what he'd wanted her to be- and the skill in the conversion was that she had been wholly unaware it was happening until it was too late. In retrospect, it was not difficult to see that every discussion, every interaction with the clone had been carefully contrived, from their first meeting aboard the interdictor- the _experiment_- to that last conversation in her quarters the morning before departing for her mission on Coruscant.

In fact, if she wasn't much mistaken- she was reasonably certain that the most unguarded look at Thrawn she'd ever had, or ever would in the future, was upon her recovery over Csilla, when he had shown uncensored melancholy over the death of an old friend. And during that interaction, before her memories became a befuddled mess as the hypothermia set in with a vengeance, she'd told him Nabrin's last words for him, that he had _chosen wisely_.

And Thrawn's response had been strange, though she was too lethargic and apathetic at the time to notice. His melancholy had deepened into a different sort of sadness, as he softly reassured her that she ought not concern herself with it.

_It is no matter. I know of what he spoke- something of a debate between us. It is no matter._

There was something in those words, in the tone behind them, the flicker in the chiss's eyes as he said them… something that suggested to Leyla that, just maybe, Thrawn was not oblivious to the sacrifices he had demanded of her; that suggested that he perhaps even felt a small measure of guilt for them, for the ones he knew were yet to come. Whether she was right or wrong, whether this Thrawn or the one before truly cared for the individuals he utilized as tools of his success, she suspected she would never know. But if nothing else, though she would never hold him in such high regard as did her grandfather, her uncle, maybe even her father… the idea that maybe he _did _recognize all she had given up, and felt some remorse in turn…

It enabled her to find a previously elusive inner peace with the clone and the events that led her here.

X-X-X-X

**End Part II**

**A/N: Reiterating that there will still be an epilogue, should be up on Thursday. In the meantime though, thanks a bunch to everyone who read through this crazy adventure of mine and I'd love to hear your thoughts at the end of the absurdity that became my AU here. :-)**

**~Lexi**


	33. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

_53 ABY_

_Coruscant_

It was suspiciously quiet.

Padding softly down carpeted corridors in a dark-paneled hallway, Leyla stealthily approached the target door, pulling her presence back, lest those inside be alerted to her coming.

The grey metal door was closed, the control panel on the wall flashing as normal, a red light above the numeric keypad steady as it awaited the proper code sequence to grant admission into the apartment beyond.

But she was a Jedi; and Jedi were not hindered by such mundane, everyday things as access codes and locks. Letting her hand rest lightly against the cool metal of the door, she exerted herself quickly in the Force, felt for the intricate system that connected the sliding panel to the alarm system, worked carefully around it as she disengaged the double-latch locking mechanism. A last burst of effort slid the door just far enough on its tracks to allow her to squeeze through, and it immediately closed again behind her.

The apartment was as suspiciously quiet as the corridor had been. The entry-way was standard, neat and unremarkable, and she quickly but quietly continued forward to where it opened into a larger living space- also empty. Which only left her two options to locate her quarry- and she _knew_ he was here.

Her first option was straight ahead, down the corridor to where it ended in a kitchen and dining area. Taking a moment to consider, she peered thoughtfully down towards the closed door- and then opted for option number two, which was the hallway that branched out to her left.

There were four doors- two bedrooms, a refresher, and a combined office and comm center. Quickly eliminating the latter two possibilities, she headed for the second bedroom door, the smaller room, hand centimeters away from the panel to open it… and then she stopped, narrowed her eyes, and turned shrewdly towards the first bedroom door.

Time was of the essence; she slapped the door-release, ducked inside, ending the maneuver in a somersaulting roll, coming up on one knee and looking around in confusion upon seeing that _this_ room was empty too.

That was when the tingle ran down her spine, and she twisted around just in time to see something fly at her from atop the wardrobe. Recovering from the surprise in the half-second it took to reach her, she caught the projectile and fell backwards, exerting the slightest bit of effort in the Force to cushion the impact of her head against the wooden floor.

Her laughter quickly wiped the concern from Tylas's violet eyes, and he smiled, a feline and feral grin, even as he wrapped copper-furred arms around her neck as she sat up again. "Hi," his voice was muffled against her shoulder as she hugged him in return. "I won this time- but you cheated."

"I did not!" she insisted in mock outrage.

"You did," he countered stubbornly. "You used the Force to open the door."

She considered. "Well… yeah, but what was I _supposed_ to do? Knock? It would have given me away pretty quickly, eh?"

"The viewport?" he suggested, eyes widening far too innocently.

With a chuckle and a grin, she hoisted the young bothan from her lap and set him on his feet before standing herself, taking in the bedroom, relatively unchanged in the six months since she had last seen it. Finally allowing her awareness to extend naturally, she could sense her father's presence easily enough in the kitchen, a deep amusement coursing through him as he surely sensed their antics and the outcome of their little game.

Leyla took a moment to study her adopted brother. Tylas had grown quite a bit in recent months, and was taller and slimmer than a human child of his age would generally be. His copper fur rippled with excitement, and a single white stripe that started at his chin extended down the front of his body, disappearing below the neck of the red tunic he wore over black pants.

"Aren't you looking spiffy today," she took his hand and led him from their parents' bedroom where he'd staged his ambush. "What's the occasion?"

"Leyla!"

"Oh," she smacked her palm against her forehead. "Right- it's your… fourth birthday?" He made a low sort of growling hiss in his throat. "Eighth?"

Shaking his head, he pulled her along to the kitchen where Kyp and Gennevi were doing a remarkable job of appearing to cook, though from the way they pulled apart as Leyla and Tylas entered the room, she suspected that actual food preparation was being relegated to second priority.

Kyp pulled her into a fierce embrace as Tylas proudly announced, "I won."

"Yeah," Leyla cocked a brow, "he attacked me from the top of your guys' wardrobe."

Gennevi shot her son a look. "The _top_ of it? How did you get up…?" her eyes narrowed and she glared half-heartedly at her husband. "Never mind. Be careful, huh?"

Her sternness was no match though for Tylas's affection as he climbed up on a chair and wrapped his arms around her neck. "I always am." Shaking her head, Gennevi hoisted him into her arms- already, he was starting to get big to be held this way- and smiled broadly at her stepdaughter.

"So," Gennevi sized her up and down, "you're free."

"Free," Leyla agreed, grinning. "Finally."

Kyp smirked. "I hear they didn't want to let you go."

She shrugged wearily. "They don't need me. The Constitutional Council will be more than capable of handling any further Charter problems, the Rehabilitation Committee is off to a great start- and six years has been quite enough."

It had, in fact, been just shy of six years; longer, she suspected, than Reige had anticipated when she asked so long ago on Bastion, but the better part of the past eighteen months had been spent splitting the Reconstruction Committee into the two aforementioned bodies and organizing the staffing, funding, and oversight guidelines for each.

Tomorrow was the six year anniversary of something else though- the tragedy of Torolis. And today was Tylas's sixth birthday.

And Leyla had only just turned twenty-six two weeks prior.

"Battek and Tivan are going to take over for the Rehab Committee," she continued, plucking a sweet roll from a tray and popping it in her mouth before Gennevi could object. "Help organize the help from the Jedi; but the Jedi are taking a step back from the Constitutional Council while representatives from Hapes and Senex take their place."

Kyp turned interestedly at that news. "I knew about the former of course," he told her. "But I hadn't heard about Hapes and Senex. I guess your old friend has been pretty busy?"

"Ta'yen has really started to turn things around," she nodded approvingly. "Though I really don't know how Tenel Ka managed it in Hapes, they haven't been too keen on the rest of the galaxy since the Yuuzhan Vong war."

She helped her father and stepmother set the table while Tylas looked on impatiently through all of the 'grownup' talk, nostrils flaring as he smelled the cake that was still baking, fur rippling in anticipation that only a young child can feel for a birthday.

"Oh," Kyp murmured as he retrieved dishes from a cupboard, "Master Barratk'l reports that you are decisively stubborn to a spectacular degree when your mind is set on something."

Barratk'l was the female yuzzem Master who had been selected as the Jedi representation on the Reconstruction Committee. Generally good-natured and patient, even the yuzzem's nerves had worn thin during some of the lengthier debates that arose among the committee.

"Oh? What did you say?"

"I blamed your mother."

She chuckled under her breath. "How is mom?"

"She's doing alright. Doesn't like being away from Navi- sorry, _Naviin_, he doesn't like the nickname anymore- but she keeps herself busy with the Masters' Council. She should be here for dinner in… an hour or so, actually."

"I'd almost forgotten she was here on Coruscant," Leyla admitted. "Guess I'm still a little behind from the trip."

Kyp half-turned and frowned at her. "I thought you saw Jag already?"

"Yeah, but in his office, and he was practically on his way out the door already. He kept complaining about being held up by bureaucracy, but I'm pretty sure he was just stalling their departure until I got in."

"He's wily like that."

Leyla sighed and took up a seat at the table beside Tylas. Kyp eyed her questioningly as he set down the last plate, and then settled himself into the seat opposite and waited patiently. "How… how are things with him? And mom? Are they adjusting to everything? Being back on Coruscant, Naviin staying behind on Ossus, dad being back with the military?"

"They're all doing well," Kyp assured her softly. "It's rough on Jaina sometimes when Jag is called away, but that doesn't happen all that often, and she's been taking on a fair few projects of her own with Jacen. And I think it helps that Jag's position doesn't lend itself to being in combat situations, she worries less about him. Actually," he smiled drily, "I think Ashik is still probably most paranoid about the whole arrangement."

Three years ago, Jaina and Jag had left Ossus shortly after Naviin took on full-time training. Soon upon their return to Coruscant, where Jaina took on a more consistent role with the Masters' Council, Gavin Darklighter had approached Jag about a new position he wanted to instate- Coordinative Liaison between the militaries of various components of the Alliance.

Jag was an obvious choice for the role, with strong ties to the Remnant and the Empire of the Hand, and having formerly served himself in the Ascendancy's Expansionary Defense Force. He worked primarily from Coruscant with occasional trips to Bastion, and less frequent trips to Csilla or Nirauan- and it was those trips, Leyla suspected, that kept Ashik nervous and on his toes. Nevertheless, ties between Coruscant and Csilla were stronger than ever and, even if they enjoyed their isolation in a far corner of the galaxy, the leadership on Csilla were being gradually forced to tolerate more involvement with the rest of the galaxy- and more non-chiss in Ascendancy space.

Kyp leaned forward and caught her reflective gaze. "So- how long do we have the honor of your presence?"

"You're so sure that I'm running off again so soon?"

His answering smile was devilish. "Well, there's a certain Jedi Master on Ossus who asks about you with uncanny frequency and poorly-executed nonchalance."

"Uncle Luke?" Leyla asked blandly.

Shaking his head in frustration, Kyp stood and went back to setting the table, even as Gennevi removed the cake from the oven. He was muttering under his breath the whole time. "Force help that poor man…"

"Hey," Leyla dropped the pretense of ignorance, "I've barely seen Vulcor in the past six years; I haven't seen him at _all_ in more than a year. He's a Master now, he's an assistant administrator for the academy…"

Gennevi turned curiously from the counter where she was studying the pastry with a skepticism that showed all-too-clearly that, even after nearly eight years away from the military and its freeze-dried rations and standard dining facilities, she was still trying to grasp the finer points of preparing food for herself- or for her husband and son. "And?"

Leyla shrugged, expression neutral. "And that's a long way away from the Imperial Palace on Bastion, when we were both still recovering from several incredibly stressful weeks."

Kyp frowned. "And you think that he's not interested anymore?"

She grinned broadly. "I didn't say anything of the sort, I'm just pointing out that we made no promises and he'd be well-within rights had he moved on by now."

Her father narrowed his eyes at her. "Uh-huh- when are you seeing him?"

The smile widened. "A few weeks."

"So long?"

Her expression closed off slightly, some of the humor fell from her face, but she still managed a light smile as she murmured, "I have an errand to run first."

X-X-X-X

_Ten Days Later_

She stepped out onto the grass of the muggy world and stared around at sights that were familiar but distantly so; the buildings were abandoned and mostly stripped, from what Cem had told her, and only the occasional maintenance team came out to make sure that, should it ever be needed again, the bunker and outlying buildings were still in usable condition.

Quickly abandoning the idea of venturing down into the bunker itself, lest something happen to trap her down there- and she didn't really feel like scaling a turbolift shaft today- Leyla took a winding path around the compound and peered inside the old training facility. As expected, there wasn't much of anything left, and a cluster of some small, native, furry rodent scattered when she opened the door.

At least someone was getting use out of the place.

The Jedi trainees were gone. Most had removed to Nirauan, a few had elected to undergo further training on Ossus, some had even returned to a non-Jedi lifestyle in the Hand or- more anonymously- in the Ascendancy. Yilina had taken over the training on Nirauan, though Zekk still journeyed out a couple of times a year to check on progress of his former students.

They worked best as a collaborative group though, able to challenge and test one another as they developed their skills. It was simply how they had begun their training, how it had been encouraged even after Zekk and Tahlia had taken over, and the few who had gone to Ossus preferred a more individualized approach, would undergo the standard apprenticeship with a Master eventually; indeed, some already had. But for the rest on Nirauan…

They were what Red Hand always should have been. Innovative, improvising, fiercely loyal to one another- and always on the lookout for trouble.

The dormitory structure was in a similar state of stripped abandonment. All of the doors sat open, revealing empty rooms beyond- all of the doors save one.

It was her old room, the one she had stayed in for only a few weeks, before heading to Coruscant and inadvertently sparking the brief war between the GA, the Remnant, and the Ascendancy. She'd never made it back, had never seen any reason to return to the hidden base that was picking up shop and moving to Nirauan anyway.

But now, six years later, her door sat closed, and she hesitated only a moment before palming the release panel and stepping inside- finding it largely unchanged in the intervening time. The furniture was still there, though the sheets had been stripped from the bed, the pillow removed; a quick look inside the the top drawer of the short dresser revealed two old jumpsuits she had left behind. One was the outfit that had taken much abuse during practice sparring sessions with Zekk; the other was plain, and she wondered if she'd left it behind for any particular reason, or simply forgotten it.

Regardless, it was far more _her_ than the outfits she'd been obliged to wear in the time since- though none of those were quite as cringe-worthy as the dress she'd been cajoled into for the Unification Summit that took place six weeks after her departure from Bastion. Lacing up the back had ensured she could barely breathe for the whole evening of the formal portion of the summit, and she had vowed afterwards that, while professional attire was an unfortunate necessity, _formal_ wear was just not going to happen.

Leia Organa Solo and Syal Antilles Fel were probably highly disappointed in their granddaughter.

Tucking the jumpsuits back into the drawer in which she found them, Leyla turned and left the bedroom, closing the door behind her out of habit. She continued her tour around the premises, taking in the sights, sounds, and scents that spurred memories- some good, some stressful- of her prior stay on this uncharted world. And as the sun dropped below the horizon, she emerged from a casual stroll through the trees out to the overgrown clearing where she had sparred six years ago, back at the wide swath of grass that served as a landing field.

Her small yacht was sitting where she'd left it- cozy, easy to manage on her own, but with room for a handful of passengers comfortably, the Sorosuub-designed ship had been one perk she hadn't argued too strongly against when her tenure was up and the GA gifted the ship to her. After using it to get around in the line of work for six years, she'd grown a bit attached in a way she never thought she would to a ship; though not nearly as attached as her grandfather to the _Millennium Falcon_.

She ate a wholly uninteresting dinner, not really tasting it as she sat deep in thought and wondered what she was even doing out here, in the middle of nowhere of Wild Space. If nothing else though, the trip had provided her with some valuable reflection time… and there was a great deal for her to consider in the coming days, weeks, and months.

When she finished her light meal, she made up her mind and collected a spare set of bedding. Feeling slightly silly, she secured the hatch of the ship- who was there to break into it?- and trekked back across the compound to the dormitories, where she hastily made up the small bed before collapsing onto it, exhausted.

She was asleep in under a minute.

X-X-X-X

The next day, she donned the tan jumpsuit and took a long run through the woods, letting the Force flow through her, taking in every little sensation from the abundant life around her. When it started to drizzle in the late morning, she slowed to a jog and turned back towards the compound, eventually covering the last kilometer at a walk, reveling in the droplets that dripped down from the tree canopy above and cooled her face.

After a shower and meal back aboard the yacht, Leyla went back outside to find that the ground was already nearly dry from the hot sun that was reaching high noon- its equivalent here, anyway- and, feeling like a little kid again, she sprawled out on the grass and immersed herself in the Force, meditating for a long time while lying flat on her back.

X-X-X-X

It was on the third morning that she woke early and for no immediately discernible reason. For a long moment, she lay listening to the sounds of the forest beyond before she began to sense other things out of place, things much closer. And as she sat up, rubbing tiredly at her eyes, a familiar scent caught her attention, and she glanced over at the desk across the room where steam was rising from a mug that smelled of ch'hala tea.

She took a few minutes to dress and pull her mussed hair back into an even messier braid; and with a rueful chuckle, she grabbed the mug from the desk and silently exited her room, slipping out of the building as the sun was just beginning to crest on the horizon, though it was barely oh-four-hundred by standard time. Not for the first time, Leyla cursed the short days of this nameless world, but as she was already up, it hardly seemed worth it to complain about the early sunrise.

He was strolling casually along the perimeter, much as she had done upon her arrival and, mug in hand, she fell into step beside the chiss whose hands were clasped behind his back, his head bowed in thought. "I was starting to wonder if I had misjudged you," she commented idly, taking a sip from her tea that was, unsurprisingly, sweetened to perfection. Unsurprising, but more than a little strange, as her preferences had shifted slightly in the past six years.

"Any faults of judgment have been my own," Thrawn informed her evenly. "I was not expecting you so soon."

"You thought I would go to Ossus first." He was quietly affirming. "I was going to," she admitted.

"But Jedi Vulcor would have discouraged you from making this trek," the clone surmised with dry humor in his voice.

Leyla smirked. "It's _Master_ Vulcor, actually. And that was part of it, yes. There's also the fact that, once I reclaim my Knighthood, the Masters can order me about again."

"They can try, anyway," Thrawn murmured, and Leyla tried to decide if that was something of a joke. "And so you are not Jedi Solo-Fel once more, but nor are you Councilor Durron. What are you, at present? Or is that, perhaps, what you are here to discover?"

_Anyone who suddenly alters their normal routine to meander a wild jungle must be seeking something; if only peace of mind._

"I don't know why I'm here," she admitted frankly. "But for the moment… I think I'm just Leyla."

The clone considered that quietly for a few minutes. They continued on a random path, skirting the edge of the treeline, in a deeply contemplative silence.

"So how did I do?" Leyla finally asked. "Did I perform to expectations?"

"Captain Fel has been pleased."

"But you aren't?"

He stopped walking and turned to face her, lip twitching in amusement. "Leyla, I've spent little of the past six years in the known galaxy. Your uncle has kept me apprised of the goings-on, when he can, but I have turned my mind to other matters. You were not selected for the position for _my_ sake." She shrugged and flushed a bit. "How do _you_ feel you performed?"

"Well," she continued on their meandering stroll, "there was only _one_ major incident where the Imperial councilor sought to have me removed from the post on the grounds that I was young, stupid, immature, and predisposed to favor policies which benefited the Hand due to my personal connection with it."

"A strange accusation, given that you have equally-strong connections with the Empire, in your aunt and her family, and far-stronger connections with the Jedi." She smiled lightly. "What sparked such an incident?"

"A move to push Cem to fully disclose the full holdings of the Hand- territories, allies, alliances."

"Why did you reject the measure?"

She laughed. "Like you think I'm naïve enough to think that _Cem_ even knows about every component of the Empire you formed and are, I'm guessing, _still_ working to fully revive?" His answering smile was feral. "More to the point though… as Cem pointed out, the network serves largely to protect isolated cultures from threats the rest of us don't even know about. The last thing those cultures want is someone even bigger coming along and meddling in their affairs. They joined the Hand, not the GA. We compromised, and Cem made available information regarding those governments who currently support the armed forces of the Hand."

"That seems not unreasonable. How did the Empire take it?"

"Well…" she hesitated. "Reige was fine with it. Councilor Svenry was not. And oddly enough, Councilor Svenry was replaced soon following the aforementioned, ah… criticisms."

"Perhaps Admiral Reige felt that he did not play well with others."

She snorted softly. "That would be an understatement. I guess he faced some grief from the Moff Council, who had appointed Svenry in the first place, but Reige insisted they find someone else who could conduct themselves in a slightly more… diplomatic… manner."

"And do you feel the experience has been a meaningful endeavor for you?"

That one took a moment of thought. "I… don't believe the committee would have been any less successful with someone else at its head. And I still don't believe I was remotely suited to do it- though now I know more about the fine points of the Alliance Charter and governmental structure than I ever desired."

One of his brows rose curiously. "Is there yet a political career in your future?"

"I wouldn't go that far," she deadpanned. "Even in the job, I highly preferred the… humanitarian aspect."

"Ah," he nodded, "I hear that a colony is already established on a small but gradually recovering region of Ithor?"

Her smile was faint. "It seemed prudent to prove that we were not totally oblivious to what led Ryoqim to do the things he did- even if much of the galaxy doesn't understand it." And with those words, she rubbed unconsciously at the side of her neck, remembering with sparkling clarity her encounter with the ithorian, his cold and unfocused fury, her entreaties that went ignored… and his near success at killing her, before she managed to run him through with her lightsaber. Something she would never have managed, had Nabrin not hastened to her aide. "Torolis is slowly growing as well. We put a great deal towards helping the Bothan Council fund the… cleanup efforts… and to helping to keep the planet supplied for the non-bothans who were still living there."

"A project with some sentimental value for you, no?"

"A bit." She sighed as they neared the clearing where her ship sat, reflecting the morning sun. A small and innocuous shuttle sat a couple dozen meters across the field. "Dad and Gennevi are planning to take Tylas to Torolis sometime this year… they figure he's old enough to handle it now… see the memorial, learn a little bit about his clan."

"Does he still bear his clan name?"

She nodded. "Tylas Ker'vic Durron." A half-smile touched her lips as she glanced over at the clone. "I don't think they're too worried about Tylas suddenly discovering he's adopted."

"Unlike yourself?"

Her raised brows were the only suggestion that it was not a topic she planned to discuss with him. And Thrawn easily took the hint, though perhaps he could not have known about the sensitivity she bore on the subject, _especially_ in relation to the chiss- because it was, of course, her kidnapping by Red Hand that had set the events into motion which led her to making that discovery, that Jagged Fel was not her biological father.

"Come," Thrawn turned and led the way to his shuttle. "Let us continue our musings over breakfast."

X-X-X-X

It became a ritual, a sort of yearly pilgrimage that Leyla undertook which confused most of her family, bemused Jag and Zekk, and, to be sure, slightly annoyed Vulcor. To his credit though, he never attempted to stop her from going as, early in each year, she headed out to Wild Space in time with the anniversary of her first contact with Thrawn and Cem aboard the _Dawn's Folly_.

That wasn't to say that they both made it every year. Sometimes, Cem would contact her ahead of time and tell her not to expect Thrawn, though she still went on her own, perhaps for a shorter duration of time than she would otherwise. Once during such a year, she persuaded Vulcor to accompany her, but he found the whole experience to be somewhat eerie and more than a little unsettling. After that, she resumed her solo trips.

As time went on though, Cem was progressively less-aware of Thrawn's movements, and he eventually stopped clueing her in one way or the other after two consecutive years where he neither saw nor heard word from the clone, but he still turned up for their annual meeting. Once, after he failed to turn up for a couple of years prior, Leyla had asked him about his projects in the Unknown Regions and Wild Space.

"Do you really want to know?"

She hesitated at the pointedness of his tone, and then decided that, quite frankly… no, she didn't.

Of course, some of the years it was _she_ who failed to show up. This was rarely due to matters of work, but more frequently due to events in her personal life- events which, even sequestered out of touch from the known galaxy, Leyla had to assume that Thrawn was full-well aware of before he turned up at the former base and found her missing.

It was several years before Vulcor first asked her not to go, and she looked up at him in surprise as they sat on the sofa, her head leaning comfortably against his chest, his arm draped about her shoulders. "Why?"

"Why do you think?" She blinked and cocked her head curiously, and he sighed. "You didn't go four years ago."

"Sure, I was about to pop four years ago. In fact, I _did_, just after I would have left."

A wry smile touched her husband's lips, and he moved his hand from her arm and reached over to lightly tousle the hair of the sleeping boy who was tucked under his mother's arm. "And I thanked Averi for that."

She smacked his arm lightly. "Well, as there isn't really such danger at four months, it hadn't occurred to me."

Leyla got her way after the innocent suggestion that Vulcor and Averi could accompany her, knowing that if there was one thing Vulcor wanted less than her to journey out to Wild Space while four months pregnant, it was exposing their son to the mysterious chiss.

X-X-X-X

Leyla slipped quietly into her daughter's bedroom; she'd just gotten in and it was late but, despite the hour, Vulcor was sitting in an armchair in the darkened room, awake but only just, and he blinked at her sleepily as she walked in.

Once upon a time, that chair had been the place from which either of them would read bedtime stories to their children; now though, with Averi studying and living in the temple full-time and Pallas getting too old for such things, it was simply a good place to sit and keep their daughter company when she was lonely without her brother often around anymore- most frequently, when either of her parents were called away or Leyla made her annual sojourn.

Placing a soft kiss against her daughter's forehead first, Leyla settled herself in Vulcor's lap and burrowed warmly against him as his arms wrapped around her protectively, and his chin rested lightly atop her head. "You're back early," he murmured quietly. "He didn't show again?" She shook her head. "That's the fourth year now? I assume that Cem hasn't heard anything from him either…?"

"No," she sighed. "But he thinks he's still out there somewhere."

"But you're worried about him."

Leyla smiled ruefully and tilted her head to look at him. "Maybe all that talk of threats in the Unknown Regions is getting to me."

He brushed a long lock from her face and kissed her softly, rubbing her back reassuringly. "I daresay that, if there's one thing Thrawn is good at, it's taking care of himself."

She opened her mouth but paused when Pallas shifted over on the bed and rolled groggily around to face them. The tiredness quickly evaporated from her face when she saw her mother sitting there too, and she climbed out of bed and hurried over to hug her. "You're home."

Leyla shifted and pressed herself against one arm of the chair to make room for their daughter, who clambered up to cuddle with them. Vulcor draped an arm around each of them, and as Pallas quickly began to drift off again, Leyla considered how much her daughter reminded her of a young Naviin- sensitive, affectionate, not nearly as independent as Averi had been in his youth. She looked nothing like her uncle though, with golden locks that were even lighter than her father's sandy brown hair, and her eyes… they were mesmerizing, unusually so. One was a sharp green that was evocative of Kyp's; the other was grey, like her fathers'. Averi's features, in contrast, took more strongly after his mother- his brown hair wasn't nearly as dark as Leyla's, but he had eyes of nearly the precise shade of soft brown which she had inherited from her own mother.

"Mommy?"

"Yes, sweetie?"

"Who's Thrawn?"

Vulcor stiffened ever so slightly, but Leyla smiled softly and brushed her hand gently against her daughter's cheek. "No one, darling; just an old friend. Go back to sleep now, it's late."

When she did, Leyla touched a hand lightly to her forehead and exerted the tiniest amount of effort in the Force- just enough to make sure that Pallas wouldn't remember the name upon waking the next day. Vulcor pursed his lips, but said nothing.

Leyla missed her son, but was content with the cozy gathering of the three of them still at home as she leaned back once more and relaxed against her husband's chest. After several minutes of companionable silence, her eyes closed though she was not asleep, she finally murmured softly, "He's still out there."

She wasn't sure how she knew it- but she spoke with as much conviction as she had that night, so long ago now, sitting in her suite in the Imperial Palace on Bastion and staring upwards towards space where _The Hand_ orbited, watching and waiting, wondering what was next.

"How do you know?"

"I just do. And I have faith that he'll turn up again, at the most unexpected of moments and in the unlikeliest of ways. After all…" she spoke lowly, more to herself than to Vulcor, voice quiet enough that he had to strain his senses to hear her...

"…there's always a next."

**Fin**


	34. Story cover info

**Story Cover designed by Iverna on the Jedi Council Forums; images property of Lucasfilms, LTD and pulled from Wookieepedia .**


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